New to the Creed
by thompsongunner91
Summary: "I'm gonna kill you!"  So said Desmond Miles to a boy named Lex, who'd sent them back to a time where they would learn to live by the three tenets of the Assassins' Creed under the tutelage of Altair, Malik, and Jameel, or die trying to find a way home.
1. Chapter 1

Masyaf outskirts  
>1174<p>

They were at it again.

The young boy sat apart, enjoying a breakfast of bread and hardboiled egg as his father and mother discussed his future. His mother wanted for him instruction by the Templar Order. In the meanwhile, his father took him to receive instruction in the ways of the Order of the Hashashin, whom the world would come to know as the Assassins. 

The Orders were diametrically opposed to one another. In other words, he would be the enemy of someone all his life. 

The Templar Order had stationed itself within the Holy Land as a military arm of protection for those European souls who journeyed in looking to be blessed and whatnot. They also searched for certain powerful treasures while they were at it, treasures that could bring the world to its knees under their fist. 

The Assassins were raised into the Order and taught in the manner of artisans: Novice, Journeymen, and Masters, all headed by the Grandmaster known simply as Al Mualim-the Teacher. Their Creed held only three tenets and those not only concerned the men who were bound by them, but those who may stumble into their path unwittingly. 

This Creed was the first thing the boy was taught alongside his fellow Novices and he had recited it like a mantra until it flowed from his heart as easily as a prayer of devotion. 

As his parents continued to bicker, his mother now pointing her finger into his father's face, he kept his mind occupied by reciting the Creed. _Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Be discreet in your work. Do not compromise the Brotherhood._

This was the start of many a day for the past months. It was the same on this day. 

Finished with his meal, he made his way out into the open air and walked along the path that led to the main road. It was a clear day, so that he could count the various birds that flew overhead: messenger pigeons going from Al Mualim to the Rafiqs who kept the Bureaus in the cities or back to him with their responses, birds of prey that sometimes were trained by the Assassins to assist them with certain tasks, and the sundry songbirds that huddled in clusters too large for attack by any single predator. 

The walled village itself began around a well and speckled the winding trail that led up to the mountain where the Assassins' fortress castle stood. The laymen of the village supported the fortress with their skills of farming, weaving, and herding, often become servants and informants up at the castle. In return, the men of the castle protected them from harm. Inside the keep was housed the study of Al Mualim, his vast library, the infirmary, and the armory and robing rooms. The keep itself was an impressive structure, complete with a battlement for archers and backed against the mountain and its surrounding cliffs and reservoirs of water and a tower from which the men could perform Leaps of Faith into the haystacks below. These Leaps were seen as a rite of passage for the Novice, who would then begin his training in earnest and receive missions appropriate to his skill level and standing. 

The boy was alone as he trod the dusty path into the village. No familiar faces came running to greet him. His brother, Kadin, had made certain of it. 

When a friend was made, Kadin would chase them off. If he had a certain aptitude for a subject, Kadin would master it. The jealousy that had at first seemed simple sibling rivalry had morphed into a regular hateful obsession for the older boy. He tormented his younger brother whenever he was able. It wasn't uncommon for him to come to training with a blackened eye or split lip from this treatment.

He never complained of it, though. It was only another thing to be dealt with for love of his family and nothing could be done to him at night. The night was his playground, even as he was trained in the day. During the sunlit hours, he would take to his studies. The Assassins were expected to be master of the sword, short blade, throwing daggers, and the weapon of every man from Master to Novice, the Hidden Blade. The use of this last weapon, however, cost the men their ring fingers, but it was a price they willingly paid. It was only a finger. 

They were also taught to ride and to fight mounted, how any part of the body could be used as a weapon, and supplemented this physical aspect of learning with mental stimulation as well. They read of the world, studied its maps. They also learned the different tongues of the Holy Land and those coming into it. Arabic for the study of the Qur'an and the Saracen armies, Hebrew for the Jewish districts of Jerusalem, and a smattering of European tongues, the odd languages that often made no sense in their ways of speaking-the French banter that was pressed up through the nose, the thick, course growls of the Germans that belonged to the Teutonic branch of the Templar Order, English, for those men that followed the French ruler but spoke a lilting mash of the Germanic and Frankish languages supplemented with words they acquired from the very Holy Land itself. 

The night was the time for reflection, the time to hone his skills that he'd acquired during the day and make them his own, a time to escape the worries that his brother brought to his mind and the sick feeling he felt that he couldn't please both his parents—the feeling that one of them would never forgive his decision, if allowed to make it for himself. 

And this night, which had previously been a safeguard against all the foulness he had to endure, would be rent asunder by a single act. 

Jumping down from the rooftops he'd been scurrying across since finishing with his latest lessons, he turned toward home. The risen moon and stars leant him their light, casting the ground before him in silver hues. Before long, however, a strange orange flickering caught his eye, his pace quickening until a blast of heat stopped him where he stood. Kadin grinned at him over his shoulder, a mad grin, as he presented him with the inferno his home had become. 

"What do you think of it, little brother? Mother and Father have learned their lesson now. And guess what." He turned to face him. "You're next." 

Jameel stared at his sibling, stared until he turned his back and ran for Masyaf and its keep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters created by Ubisoft and Jameel, his brother, and the Crows belong to my friend Kronoton.

Acre  
>1187<p>

His reflection gazed back at him from the surface of his sword. His face was still crusted with dirt, dried blood, and gore. 

The last thirteen years had changed Jameel, as had the last twenty-four hours, and in his reflected gaze it showed. 

He had grown from a gangly youth to a young man who knew how to walk with his build and height. He stood a half a head over most other Assassins, his full growth at nineteen. His hair, dark as rain soaked soil, worn slightly longer than the scalp-scraping closeness of his brothers-in-arms, was matted down to his neck and brow. His eyes stood out starkly from his deeply tanned skin, a color he'd once heard named ice blue. 

Jameel sheathed his blade and gazed into the night. He had had revenge in his grasp and it had slipped between his fingers as easily as well water or the sands of Damascus. 

At the Horns of Hattin, both Templar and Hospitalier men had been taken captive. A goodly number had lost their heads, including the men who had stepped up to join their comrades out of some demented sort of loyalty. Jameel had watched from behind the lines of men until only two remained, his brother and another man. 

He stepped forward, meaning to offer his sword to perform the deed. Then black death had rained from the sky. The men had retreated and the Templars escaped. These arrows Jameel knew well. They were the tools of the mercenaries that were in his brother's employ. They dressed as carrion eaters, black crows, and attacked their prey from afar. They were powerful archers. 

They found him an enjoyable target to hunt. 

Secretly, he hoped Kadin enjoyed the presents he made to him, presents of fallen comrades. He struck in the night on soundless wings. In the morning, there was nothing but a corpse daubed with its own blood, torn apart by his talons. No small wonder then that the dwellers of the cities came to call him Red Owl.

**Please review. I'd like to know if you lot favor this little endeavor of a piece of writing or if you'd give it two Hidden Blades in the back.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AC (that's Ubisoft's job) and all those cars mentioned belong to their respective automakers.

Somewhere in Pennsylvania  
>2012<p>

His leg dangled over the edge of the top of the car as he stared out at the countryside blurring by. It all became one at night for him, the same unfolding landscape, the same unfeeling drivers in their Subarus and Toyotas, Dodges and Fords. 

People never saw what they didn't expect to see, least of all a seventeen-year-old boy lying atop a train car in Whatever-man's-land, Pennsylvania. 

He knew his destination, keeping it lodged in the front of his mind with a roll of mental duct tape: Gotham, the Big Apple, New York. The place where, hopefully, he could "fo'get abou' it." 

But for now-for now, he couldn't forget. He remembered, and if there was a God, He knew he didn't want to, but he did. 

His name was Lex. His name was Lex and as of two years previous, he didn't know who he was. 

That year had already been a hell of its own making. He had pushed himself to ignore the family issues. Then his parents took him out to his favorite eatery. He knew something was wrong, felt it in the air around him. They went home, asked him to sit. He asked if someone else had died, if they were going to put the old family dog down. 

He wasn't theirs, they said. He was, but he wasn't. 

It had been a teenage fling, the same as many he'd seen in his own school. From that moment, his mind divided in half. He heard them, understood the words. Objectively, in some remote lobe of his brain, he understood the situation, the reasons, all of it. The rest of him had shut down, rebooted, and shut down again. 

He had run on autopilot as he learned a name, was questioned about if he would look up its owner. 

_No,_ he thought as he gazed at the ever-changing, constant moon. _No. Looking him up wouldn't do me a lick of good._ _All I'd do is stare, search for myself in his face and wonder what I did wrong when I was too small to do nothing._

Two years. Two years and he'd finished school. The home he'd known disappeared in the reaches of the west. He would travel to a city, _the_ city, lose himself. Remake himself. 

He closed his eyes and the train moved ever on.

**I'll keep writing if you folks keep enjoying the reading. One review, all I ask, and I'll shut up about it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Don't own AC, Dessy, or the Animus. I don't own any of those happily spoken-for food stuffs down there either.

New York City  
>2012<p>

The apartment he'd gotten himself was little more than a glorified closet. It had taken a nice part of his money, but now he had a roof, kitchen, and floor. His pack was set down and its contents spread out in the kitchen and the living room. 

A sleeping bag and an old pillow were laid out on the carpet of the living room. In the kitchen, he stocked the fridge and counter-a pot and pan, instant coffee, a small jug of Coffeemate, Agave syrup, granola bars, peanut butter, some Hostess muffins, water bottles from his bag, and a supplementary selection of a half dozen eggs, chocolate milk, and a pair of sausage links from the corner store. 

These last expenses were a house warming gift to himself. 

The sizzle of egg and sausage was heavenly after his travels with only nonperishables as companions for his stomach. He quickly scooped the hot, scrambled mess onto his plate and shut everything down. 

Lex took a cross-legged seat on his sleeping bag, plate on his lap and a glass of creamy, mocha-brown milk to one side, and took in the lovely view of the brick wall out the window. 

_Welcome to the city that never sleeps. Oy vey._

He was running. Running, shoving through the crowd, and three taller boys after him. 

_So much for a trouble-free life reorganization!_

The trio had made a beeline for him the minute he'd stepped out of his building. It didn't seem like they had a pretext for going at him and he didn't think to ask for one. They had encircled him, called him a few names and shoved him around as they walked. 

Lex, for once, wished his friends had let him hit them when they'd sparred. They were fighters and had tried to get him into that frame and ability of mind, but he was never allowed to hit them and they never hit him. They had always intimidated away those who would have picked a fight. 

Now he could only take to his heels and run. 

He ran by the people, the shops, ran by the empty space where a pair of towers had stood. He ran until he was breathless, then slipped through the garage door of the nearest building.

The boy wandered through a maze of glass cubicles with odd machines inside. He stalled as he rounded a bend and heard a voice. He ducked into an alcove as an old man in a lab coat went by, then moved on. He hid again as a pair of doors opened and a woman walked passed before slipping into the room. 

A man was there in a white hoodie and jeans, sneakers, too. He sat, then lay down. Lex moved over to him. His eyes were shut, a glass over his face. He looked Middle Eastern. The boy's fingers reached out, touched his sleeve as a gasp sounded from somewhere. 

The machine, the Animus', screen moved down. The boy and the man, Desmond Miles, were gone.

**And the action picks up…to be continued in the next chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything Ubisoft does, and Krono's got Jameel.

Masyaf  
>1191<p>

The two were deposited with a dull thud on the ground. Desmond bolted up, panting and looking around. _Am I reliving Altair's memories?_ He looked at himself. _No, I'm still me. But how can-_ His thoughts jarred to a halt as his gaze turned to the one beside him. 

The boy seemed equally bewildered, wide eyed as he took in the village around them. Desmond was certain of one thing: there were no jeans and T-shirts in the Middle Ages. He grabbed the stranger by the shirt and shook him. 

"Who the hell are you, punk?" 

"I could ask the same thing! And where the hell are we?" 

"You first." 

"Lex." 

"What, no last name?" Lex was silent. "Desmond Miles." 

"Okay. And we're in...?" 

"Masyaf. Looks like it." He touched the ground. "Feels like it. That means one thing." He pinned the boy down and raised his fist. "I'm gonna kill you!" 

"Altair," said a voice. Desmond looked up. Two men stood over them, one in white and the other in white and grey. The man in white was the owner of the voice, goateed, black haired and brown eyed. He was taller than his brother, who bore a strange set of blue-gray eyes. "What on earth are you wearing? Who's this boy?" 

"Malik. Kadar," Desmond said instinctively. "I was-" 

"-going to stop looking like a fool?" 

"Yes. Right now." He stood and began the trek uphill to the keep. "Finish off the Novice, will you?" The one Desmond had called Malik turned to the Novice. Kadar was circling him, studying him. 

"He's runty, Brother," said the journeyman. It was true. On some of the taller men, the boy would only have come up to mid chest.

"Nevertheless," Malik pointed in the direction Desmond had gone, "put on proper clothing, Novice." Lex eyed the brothers before edging off to obey the command. As he neared the top of the hill, a sound caught his ear. He turned and listened; the haystack snored again. 

"Hey, which way's the robing room?" A finger emerged from the hay and pointed. The boy walked on into the keep until he came to the place. After a good hunt through various robes, he found a shirt and tunic that fit him well enough. It took a few more minutes to find a pair of pants. _What the hell-no pockets?_ He sighed and finished off the ensemble with a belt, transferred the contents of his pockets to the pouch on it, and rolled up his sleeves after tucking his pants into his boots and freeing the hood from beneath his shirt. 

After retracing his steps back out, the small time traveler was confronted with Malik's bulk in the doorway. 

"Now, boy, tell me what you want here." 

"To talk to a guy who has the decency to ask my name before he issues commands like the drill sergeant from whose nuts the sun shines, sir, if at all possible." Here he stood at mocking attention, grinning as a laugh was cracked from the man's brother. 

Malik looked at him sideways before reaching out a hand to grab his robes. Lex lunged forward, rolled between his legs, and did what he was doing best that day-he ran. Ran straight toward the waiting blade of a very tall man. 

Jameel had been performing Leaps of Faith since he'd ridden into Masyaf. Three years of hiding, hunting, and he was home. Now he could unwind. On the ride up to the keep, he'd heard talk of a strange looking Novice come to Masyaf. Perhaps he could meet this odd boy. If hostile, he'd be gutted like a fish. 

As he rose from the haystack after performing his tenth Leap from the tower, a shout made him stop picking the yellow stalks from beneath his hood. Malik and Kadar were clipping at a Novice's heels. A Novice whose hair was shot through with mahogany red when hit by the sun. A Novice whose face was a sickly pale, too pale for his own good. 

Just the thing Jameel did not need right then. 

Lex backpedaled to a halt, lungs afire. 

Jameel glared at the one his trained mind dubbed an intruder, also stopping. His wrist blade made itself known; he was intent on killing unless something was said otherwise.

**Thank you for the review, shadowelf, and being added as a favorite, Krjs. Keep reading and reviewing as you wish, guys, and I'll keep putting up more of the stuff you like.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Yet again, I don't own anything Ubisoft owns, and Jameel's Krono's.

Masyaf  
>1191<p>

Kadar stopped beside his brother, who was taking in the scene with as much intensity as Jameel's glare. Was Malik going to let the Novice die? 

"Hey, now, whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa." Lex continued backing away from the man, palms up as if held at gunpoint, eyes on the weapon. HIs mind finally dredged up the only Arabic he could remember. "_Salaam! Salaam, sala_-ah!" He fell backwards as his heel ran up against someone's foot and found himself looking up at Malik. When the man offered him a hand up, he took it. The color drained from his face once more as he shifted his eyes between the two men. 

"Stop it. The Novice is with me, so sheath your blade before I drag you behind my horse." 

Jameel withdrew the blade, the intimidating piece of metal vanishing beneath his bracer. Even though Jameel was a fellow Master Assassin and knew Malik wouldn't do that to a brother, he didn't take the threat too kindly. He ignored it however, his eyes tilting away from the group, and climbed back up the side of the building. He was fast, no question, moving from ground to roof in no more than five seconds. 

After reaching the top, he performed another Leap of Faith, landing in the hay with dead-center accuracy. He needed to; he didn't want to go _splat_ all over the ground. He climbed out of the stack and walked off, picking out bits of hay once again. 

"Train him well then." 

"With pleasure." 

Lex stared after the man, then looked up at the tower. He ran his tongue over his lips, chewed some sand that had gotten into his mouth. It couldn't have been more than twenty, thirty feet tops. A thrill ran through him. _Looks fun,_ he thought as he walked over, found a hand and foothold, and began to climb up. His focus was on where next to place himself, until he scrambled over the top to the diving-board-like plank and looked down. _...High...it's high..._ The wind set him to shivering; the hay below was a speck of gold. 

Malik's eyes widened for a moment as he watched the boy, contemplating whether or not to stop him. He sighed. What was the harm? 

"_Yallah_, boy, jump!" Beside him, Kadar was looking at the crouching figure above as if he'd gone mad. 

"Your guts will decorate the ground if you miss!" He faced his brother. "Are you really going to let him do this?" 

"Don't hesitate!" The longer the boy wobbled up there, the greater risk of his tumbling down to his death.

Lex took a long breath, steeling his shaking legs as he rose to a stand on the end of the board. It wobbled with him. He flapped his arms a bit, gazing at the golden speck. The wind burned cold at the back of his neck as he drummed up a tune in his mind and stepped off into nothingness. 

Then he was falling, the air torn from his lungs so he couldn't even dream of screaming, twisting around to right himself. 

It was over in an instant as he found himself in the hay. He stood, staggered, and stared at it like an idiot, the hair sticking up on the backs of his arms and neck. Lex turned his wide eyes to the brothers, gulping. 

"Whoa." 

He shifted his weight from one leg. It stung, but he kept his mouth shut. The men were glancing toward the west, where the sun was dipping lower. 

"Find a place to rest, Novice. We will meet in the training grounds in the morning." Malik gave him a brief nod before the men departed. The boy smiled, then limped toward the inner parts of Masyaf. 

When the small figure rose from the hay, the eyes that had traced the quick descent moved away. Jameel was impressed. For a Novice, that wasn't a bad execution of the Leap of Faith. Yes, he was watching. He wanted to make sure the odd boy wasn't going to break a leg or something like the others tended to do. He then noticed night was arriving, the strains of the sunset Call to Prayer coming over the fortress. Perfect. He began to move, still having the energy to do a few night runs before roosting. 

That was when Lex spotted him. He weighted his options-wander aimlessly or ask the guy who was a little stabby for directions. He followed after him. 

The Red Owl stopped, hearing somebody limping after him. _Hm...Maybe he did snap a bone after all..._ Jameel turned around to find it was indeed the strange Novice. 

"Yes?" 

"Just following along," the boy murmured. He gave a wry smile, a few lines of sweat running down his face. "Pretend I'm not here or something. I wanna see if I can keep up." He was glad he'd still been able to keep up thus far with the massive, annoying pain in his leg. "So, what's your name?" 

The man gaped, then answered, "Jameel." He grabbed the kid and continued along. "You've broken something; I can see it. I'll have one of the servants tend to it."

He may not have been a "nice guy" upon first meeting, but now that he wasn't practicing his aggression levels were down. He had no Novice of his own, true, but that didn't mean he couldn't protectively watch over those of others. Since Malik had gone to sleep, he would personally make sure his Novice was in top form when he returned, or as close to it as could be had with a broken leg. 

"Name's Lex," was the quick answer from the boy as he was tugged along. He made it a few steps before falling on a knee when his leg gave. "Shit!" He snarled and tried to force his feet back under his body, breathing hard and deep. 

Jameel stopped one of the nearest servants that came by and told her to tend to Lex's leg. He handed him to the woman, both handling him as if he weighed nothing, and ordered her companion to fetch the kid some food. This done, the Assassin vanished around the corner, off to practice with his wrist blade now that Lex was in good hands.

**Salaam = peace, usually used as a greeting**

**Yallah = hurry up/come on/get moving**

**Please correct me if I've misspelled or misused the Arabic, should anyone know more about it. Again, thank you for reading, and I'll keep writing.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: AC and all its characters are Ubisoft's and Jameel is Krono's.

Masyaf  
>July, 1191<p>

Lex sighed as his leg was splinted and a bowl of food was set down in front of him. He swallowed it down quickly, then stood and asked where the armory was. It took him some time to reach it with his stilted walk, but once he had he outfitted himself with a pair of daggers and a staff. Using the stick as a crutch, he hopped toward the training ground the women had taken him by on the way to the infirmary. 

There, Jameel was practicing his sneak attacks, parries, and evasive maneuvers. The Assassin even practiced more of the tricky techniques, dodging only to turn and block a blow from behind. He didn't want his skills to rust like an iron sword in the rain. His opponents were training dummies, as everyone else was eating or asleep. He wasn't hungry yet-that could wait until he was done. 

The Novice unsheathed a dagger, watched the man, then tried to imitate his attacks against the wall. He hissed as he put some weight on his splinted leg, sheathed the blade, and sat. He rubbed his forehead, the beginnings of a headache pinching his brow, and continued observing. 

Jameel was throwing daggers this time, hitting each dummy in the head so that if Lex blinked the blade would just suddenly be there instead of in his hand. He stopped to retrieve said daggers, went to the center of the ring, and repeated the killing action. The blades briefly flashed in the coming moonlight, the only warning before the kill was made. Jameel retrieved and stowed the daggers away, returning to his wrist blade. 

The boy stood and went over to him. Once sure Jameel wasn't going to put the thing in him next, Lex murmured, "Hey, can I try with you?" 

He stopped and retracted the weapon. Lex again. Jameel stared at him. 

"Fine." The Hidden Blade reappeared and he went back to practicing. If the dummies were real people, they would've been mangled beyond recognition even by their mothers. Jameel continued the indiscriminate stabbing of the straw men while he spoke, "What would you like to know?" 

_Lord, he likes staring,_ Lex thought. _That's two things known: stabby and not much for blinking._

"If I can kick one of your asses," he answered. "How much I need to measure up." His leg screamed in protest as he leaned on it; he bit his cheek and kept a lid on the pain. Almost. "Dammit!" Jameel kept on killing the dummies. 

"Not in your current state. We can't have a lame Novice. Go to sleep. That leg will take some time to heal." 

He poked one of the dummies repeatedly, as if venting out his anger on it. In fact, he was, and would continue to vent the day's rage out on all of them. It was healthier, in Jameel's mind, than just running out and killing live people. He'd save that for the contracts. Besides, killing innocents was against the Creed. 

"Huh?" No, his ears weren't lying. It didn't look healthy, though, to tell this guy a smart retort like, "Who're you, my mother?" Instead came, "Yeah, okay." The boy felt for pockets to put his hands in and reminded himself he didn't have any. _Need some crutches. Hell, need some pocket._ He looked around and, too tired to even bother asking about dorms, sat back against the wall he was using before and slept. 

Jameel continued his training well into the wee hours of the morning. He finally stopped when the dawn's first glow peered over the horizon, crawling up and sleeping on one of his shredded victims. He would, and could, sleep anywhere, a habit from traveling to kill the next target that proved itself very useful. Even if he did wake up sore, he'd simply stretch out the kinks, eat, and get back to work. Until then, hanging like a boned fish over the straw man's shoulders, he provided an early morning amusement for the guard and servant passersby. 

Lex stirred at the sound of...something. Something familiar. Familiar, extremely loud, and annoying. "Shut up," he droned. It continued. "Shut up!" He swatted at the air, then fell over. Broken leg, sand in his mouth, and someone was saying the Call to Prayer. Loudly. He groaned and pulled himself up on the wall. "God, I need some coffee." He let out a few more eloquent, slurred expletives as he fought the circulation back into his leg. 

At the same moment that the boy toppled, Jameel started, fell off the dummy, and kissed the floor of the training yard. _Ick. Ugh, the_ adhan... Standing, he brushed off his clothing and went inside the castle to get a full, proper sleep.

After viewing this surprising display, the Novice began the arduous journey downhill to the village below. Lex swore again as he was jostled by a man running hell for leather to the castle. He staggered down the trail, falling halfway before catching himself. He sighed and braced on the staff as a crowd ran by him, threw his gaze around from one wide-eyed face to the next before he was left to rub the grit from his eyes. 

"Assassin!" _English?_ was the first thing that broke through the boy's fuddled brain before he took in the scarlet cross on the tunic of the man pointing at him. 

"Master! Master, Robert de Sable lays siege to Masyaf." _All right, who rouses me this time?_ Jameel stalked off from his quarters, intent on mutilating whoever caused this commotion. Rather angry at being awakened twice, finding the Templars in Masyaf village was too much for this Owl. He may not have been fully awake, but being royally pissed off helped guide his blade, and there were no restraining words as there had been with the boy. He let rivulets flow from Templar necks as he fought beside his brothers, barely stepping aside to let Altair pass by and tackle a man bodily to the ground. 

Desmond picked up the sword from one of the fallen guards and held it like a baseball bat, eyes on the man he'd thrown himself on to buy some distance for the injured boy standing there like a moron. 

The man pressed the bartender back, sneering into his face. 

"Your home's going to be mine, Assassin." Rage welled up inside him for no reason Desmond could name. He slammed their foreheads together, lifted the blade overhead, and cleaved the Templar's skull in two, all the while snarling, "Screw you, I live in Queens!" 

Lex turned when Desmond flung himself on the man, jerking back as a second Templar's blade sliced down beside his face. His fist came up, grabbing the sword below the crossguard as he plunged his dagger into the man's gut. Their eyes locked as the soldier's hands grasped his throat; his blade twisted. He watched as the man gurgled blood and fell. Stood there looking at the blood covering his hands.

Jameel finished off the last Templar foolish enough to step in his path. He cleaned his blade on the dead man's clothing, sheathed it, and, taking the pair by their robes, retreated back to Masyaf castle. Maybe now he could finally get some sleep... 

Swaying on their feet, the two Novices sank to the ground beside the barbican, Desmond covering his head with his hood and hiding his face in his arms. Malik was heading their way, left arm soaked in blood. The bartender knew what must have happened, what was going to happen next. Best to keep his face hidden, lest he be mistaken again for someone it would be horrible to be right then. 

Lex gawked at the wound. 

"Get that looked at, Malik. Y'need t'get that looked at." Blood-blood on his hands, on Malik's arm, issuing from the man's mouth-too much blood, so much of it- Malik was saying something, to which the Novice nodded slowly before sliding up his hood and propping himself at the other time traveler's side, falling into an uneasy sleep. 

**The Adhan = The Call to Prayer**

**Another chapter for all of you readers. I hope you enjoy as much as the last six. Thanks for reading; I'll keep writing.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** AC and its characters're Ubisoft's and Jameel's Kronoton's.

Masyaf  
>July, 1191<p>

Jameel slept until dusk. He'd finally gotten a proper sleep. He also got himself a proper meal, instead of eating stolen fruits, dried meat, and stale bread. Afterward, he headed outside of castle Masyaf, white Assassin robes flowing behind him. All was quiet in the deserted courtyard. Well, almost deserted. There he was again. Imagine the Red Owl, scourge of the Templar Order, being haunted by some Novice from God only knew where! The Master Assassin decided to practice some more. 

Everyone had their assignments at this time. If anyone needed him, he would be there. Even if it was only that waif behind him that he couldn't seem to avoid. 

Lex woke to the adhan and grouchily pulled himself to his feet. After finding a servant to direct him to some real food and wolfing that down, he limped down to the river, broke off two branches from the nearest tree, and started on making himself some crutches. By the umpteenth hack with his dagger, he was seriously considering making some pockets less time squandering than this hassle. 

He looked up as someone came and sat opposite him. Malik, his arm bandaged now, the sleeve rolled up and pinned at the shoulder. An odd half smirk was on his face, as if his being here doing this amused him. The boy slid his dagger along the wood, scraping the shavings off against a rock. 

"The hell you find so funny?" he muttered, testing the height of the one crutch before setting to making the other. He waved off the sting as the blade nicked his fingers and spilled color onto his skin. 

"You," said Malik. "I find you funny." 

"Why's that?" 

"You appear from nowhere and remain here. You stay near a man who almost killed you. You kill a man by sheer accident, but act as though it's nothing." 

"It wasn't nothing!" 

"I'm glad you know this. Was it told to you?" 

"Murder wasn't exactly on my from-birth bucket list." 

"If you remain here, you will kill again." Silence. "Has Jameel told you of the Creed yet?"

"What Creed?" Lex's brows furrowed in confusion. "The-the band?" The Master Assassin assumed that was a no, he hadn't. 

"There are three tenets to the Assassin's Creed." 

"Uh-huh." He nodded and rubbed at his pounding head. 

"First, stay your blade form the blood of the innocent." 

"Sounds doable." Lex pulled his shirt up and off over his head. 

"Second, be discreet in your work." 

"Ninja. Got it." He set the clothing aside and scraped at the wood again. _At least I'll do this dumbass crap comfortably._

"Must you comment after each of these?" His answer was a smirk. "The third and most important: do not compromise the Brotherhood. In any way. Direct or indirect." _Don't even have crutches. What the hell, man!_ Lex's irritable mood slipped into his tongue, "Yeah, the password is bacon. Okay." 

"Be serious, Novice!" Malik's veneer of calm exploded. "My brother died because of a fool who dishonored our Creed!" It was then Lex remembered Kadar. His eyes widened and stuck that way as he was speared by the man's narrowed ones. Unable to articulate the ghost of pain he felt, the words came, inadequate: "I-I didn't know. I'm sorry." Malik simply held his gaze. 

"What are the tenets?" 

"Don't harm the innocent, work discreetly, and never compromise the Brotherhood." 

"And what happens if you do such things?" The boy was quiet. He drew a breath and pressed a fist against his forehead, eyes shut tight. Malik nodded and settled a hand on the Novice's shoulder. Glancing up, he met the man's eyes, fists clenched over the wood he still held. He looked away, standing and testing his poor workmanship. 

Lex shifted his weight onto his good leg and gave an experimental hop. 

The crutches groaned, bent out a little...held.

He grabbed his shirt and tunic, wrapping them around the bars of the crutches to keep from bruising his arms as he hopped laboriously up the trail to the training yard, leaning against the barbican wall and panting. Seeing Jameel was still there, he made a low _hoo-weet, hoo-weet_ whistle. 

Jameel heard and stopped, sheathing his wrist blade. He mentally counted his throwing daggers while addressing the Novice, "Hello, Lex." After slipping the daggers into their respective places on his belt, he turned to face the kid. "How's the leg?" 

"Hey." Lex shifted on his ill-made crutches. "A pain in my ass still. And these things are more of a bitch than they're worth." With some doing, he maneuvered himself onto balance and held out one of the supports. "Check it out." 

Jameel took a look. After a moment, he shook his head and gave it back. 

"Whoever made this obviously can't make anything sturdy. I'll go make you another pair." With that, the Red Owl took off. 

Which left Lex to chew his lip and wonder, _Didn't have t'do that. What's he want in return?_ He hobbled to the robing room and changed into his old clothes. It felt good to be in them again-and pockets! 

_Wallet, keys...iPod-when did I put that in there?_ He patted down his pockets and hopped through the archway. Not knowing where exactly the man had gone, he took a moment to watch Desmond. The barkeep rolled over and disappeared in the haystack he was lying on. 

Jameel returned as quick as he'd gone, sheathing the dagger he'd used. "Here. They're done. Doesn't take me long to carve something." Lex switched with him. This Assassin knew how to work! The branches were carved into more than suitable crutches. It even looked like he'd gone through the trouble of de-splinterizing the things. 

"Thanks again." He chewed his lip, then looked at him. "Why do this for me?" 

The Master Assassin gave him an unreadable look, one that spoke volumes in a tongue he felt he only half understood, and said, "We can't have a lame Novice. Your leg won't heal properly if you walk on it." Jameel then noticed the oddity beside them. "Why is that pile of hay snoring?" 

For the first time in what felt like years, Lex cracked up. He snickered out the words, "S'not the ha-hahah-hay, s'th'guy sle-hehehehe-sleeping in it." He let out a few more peals of laughter, then sighed. "Ah, man, I needed that." 

Confused, the man gave a very shrill whistle at the pile. It startled the nearby chickens; any louder and he'd wake the dead in Arsuf. Whoever was sleeping in there needed to move out. Otherwise, he'd drag them out.

"WHO DID THAT?" Desmond shot up from the hay. He snarled and looked at the two. Rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, it's you. The hell do you want, kid?" He looked at Jameel, annoyed, at the chicken that looked suspiciously like it wanted to crap on his shoe. He kicked the bird away and stalked toward the innards of Masyaf. "Guy can't get a minute's sleep around here!" 

Lex ran a hand through his hair and said, "What's he been doing anyway?" Then again, since everyone called him Altair here-he wasn't so stupid as to not hear that-maybe he'd gotten shucked with all the guy's stuff. Lex slid a hand into his pocket and withdrew his iPod, holding up one of the earbuds to Jameel. "Here. Gotta pay you back somehow for the crutches. Might as well be in something I've got." 

Jameel looked at it...and looked at it...and looked at it some more. What. Was. IT? _Little white round thing...attached to some square thing. Attacked between with some rather thin rope..._ It was odd. He made no motion to touch it. 

"What...is that?" 

"What the hell is that?" The echo was from Malik, who'd come to investigate the reason for the whistling. 

"This, my friends, is a portable music player called an iPod. Songs from all over the world on it. Well, most of the world, anyway." Lex scrolled through the songs and picked one of the softer tracks. He leaned up and pressed the one earbud into Jameel's ear and, hauling him over, the other into Malik's before pressing play. 

Jameel waited, curiosity mounting, only to recoil as the song came on. The earbud popped out easily, causing him to rub that particular ear, which rang for a second before clearing. Well, that startled him. Rather effectively. What was THAT? 

Lex grinned, hands in his pockets. God, it felt good to be able to do that again. "Scare ya?" He retrieved the dangling earbud, taking the one from Malik as well, despite the man's look of protest, as he rolled them up around the player, shutting it off to conserve the battery. 

Jameel gave the boy and the device a long, sideways look before he fled toward the training area. He was done practicing for the day, though, and only managed to find some food before he was forced to down it in three bites. A crow was at the window. He shooed it away and it obligingly flew off, shrieking. What it was doing here, he had no idea, but it disturbed him all the same... 

This was why he hastily made his way out of the keep. The dark bird plagued his thoughts and harried him on down the slope to the village. He wanted to vanish in the crowds of the market for a space and then make his escape.

A voice calling his name brought him up short; the thud that followed it temporarily dashed his pan and his worries. 

Why was this happening to him? Why now? Why? 

"_Bismillah!_" he exclaimed in sheer frustration as he went to the boy's inert form and lifted him up, as well as the crutches, before he could be trampled. Jameel carried him back up the mountain-not without calling him every name under the blazing noonday sun-and into the castle, where he handed Lex over and told the servant to tend to him. Again. 

_That boy should remain in the castle!_ He cast the dirty waif of a Novice a last barbed glance before taking a quick run to the stables. There he took a horse, gave it its full head, and rode away. He would not compromise the Brotherhood. 

The raven winged after him.

**Sorry for the long wait, guys. Busy with school work. I'll write and add more to the story when I'm able. Until then, enjoy this latest installment. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Assassin's Creed; it and its characters belong to Ubisoft. Jameel belongs to Krono. The only one I get is Lex.

_Masyaf  
>1191<em>

_His first mistake was pestering Malik. The man had said little since the iPod incident, but that hadn't done a thing to dent his enthusiasm. After all, his bum leg was easier to work with since Jameel had given him the crutches. Finally, Malik had relented and given him a spot of "Novice's work," telling him to track a man he pointed out to him and told him back to the castle.  
><em>

_His second mistake was setting out immediately. Setting out into the noonday heat, following the man wherever he went and stopping to hide when he stopped to rest. He continued after the man wherever he went, until finally he'd had enough and cornered him when he took a wrong turn down an alley._

_He put a hand over his mouth, surprised at the lack of sweat on it. The annoying headache was back full force, but he wasn't sweating as he'd been earlier. When he spoke, his voice was a rasp, telling the man to come with him quietly. He began tugging him along awkwardly, trying to balance and drag the prisoner at the same time. Lex looked up as he came in sight of the village market._

_"Hey, Jameel." Everything faded to black for the Novice the next moment as he crumpled to the ground._

Acre  
>1191<p>

Jameel found himself in Acre after five days' ride. Having ridden for Arsuf, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Whatever the case, he'd hide in the dingy, battle-scarred, old port until the heat died down. 

The heat brought on by the beaks in black, the carrion-eaters. Mercenaries dressed all in black and feathers, which sported plague doctor masks on their faces like long, bleached bones, capped with their feathery headdresses. They always planned ahead, somehow for what seemed any scenario, and their accuracy with the longbow was matched by none. 

These ones his brother had hired, the mercenaries of Ravenwatch... 

_And speaking of the blackbirds..._ The Assassin hid in a hay cart when three of them came around the corner, the early morning fog making their appearance doubly sinister. _Damn it._ They'd known he'd leave Masyaf once they sent their scout to harry him, the crow. The cities around were most likely riddled with them. Now he had to sneak back out of the town and travel with just as much stealth and caution back home. He cursed himself as he thought back to the reason he'd come to the port in the first place, not informing any of his intentions. _This was a bad plan!_

When the three archers passed and turned a corner, he left the hay cart, threading into the thin crowds that were already starting to rouse themselves for the day as he made for the exit. He stopped when a black arrow shot by his face, barely grazing his nose. The people scattered as he looked up and spotted the fourth archer he'd missed, now come out from the fog and nocking another shaft. 

Jameel made a dead sprint for the gates, the black-clad fiends at his heels. He pushed through the guards at the exit, not caring that they shouted and cursed at his back. The men halted their attempts to after the Assassin once they saw several dark blurs dash by in his wake. One of them stopped running, took careful aim, and let fly the ebony arrow. It streaked through the air and hit home, causing Jameel to stumble. The arrow had pierced through his leg, the black accented with his blood. 

_This was a very stupid plan!_

He scrambled to his horse and managed to mount, but had to shield his eyes the next moment. One of archers had released a hollow glass arrow and on impact with the rocks beside him it shattered, peppering his left arm, leg, and side with glass shrapnel as he turned his horse and spurred it into a gallop toward home. It didn't need any more encouragement as the archers released further glass arrows, drew further wounds on him and stung his mount. 

They did not follow.

Tending to his wounds as he went, he arrived in Masyaf still looking as though he'd gotten on the wrong end of a bet. Passing his mount off to the stable boy, he limped to the well, doused his face, and drank. Something seemed to be absent. Something he couldn't place. 

He frowned, the expectant feeling nagged at him. His breathing quickened as he looked around the market. Nagging expectation turned to a flutter of anxiety as the Master Assassin finally pinned what was missing. That Novice! Where was that boy? Surely he'd have noticed his absence, waited for his return. 

Uncertain and uncaring as to why he assumed this, he limped quick as he could toward the castle.

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. School, work, and a strange bit of writer's block. But here's what you've all been patiently waiting for. And thank you for the comment, Storm. :3 More chapters to come.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the AC character or AC—they're Ubisoft's—and Jameel, Ravenwatch, and Kadin are creations of Kronoton.

Masyaf

1191

Malik lifted his eyes as he heard the odd gait of the Master Assassin hurrying through the training yard. He rose from his seat on the steps leading up to the dais of the courtyard and went to the man, holding up an arm. 

"Safety and peace, brother," he said, his voice dull. 

"Safety and peace are things I'm not allowed," snapped the Owl, his eyes falling on the empty sleeve at his brother's side. So, they'd amputated. "You have my sympathies." 

"Damn your sympathies, Jameel." Malik fingered the empty sleeve, as though a phantom pain wracked him. 

"And damn your barbed tongue, Malik. I don't have time to stand here chatting with you about our limbs or lack thereof. Where the hell is that Novice of yours?" The Hawk gave him a studious look down his nose, a brow raised at the injured Master's tone. 

"Why do you seek him out in a rush? It's not as if he's going anywhere." Surprise crossed his face for a split second as Jameel all but lifted him from the ground, bunching the collar of his robes in one bloodied fist and putting him on his toes. 

"I'll take your other arm if you've let that boy come to harm, I swear." Their eyes locked as Malik curled his lip and grasped Jameel's wrist with his good arm, forcing himself back down onto his feet. The two stood in heated silence before Malik turned and walked toward the barbican. Jameel followed him with an irate stare. 

The one-armed man stalled after a few paces, looking at him over his shoulder. 

"What is he to you? But for your eyes, I'd not wonder at calling him your bastard." Shaking his head, the Master Assassin stepped into the caste, giving a nod to the guards posted on either side of the doorway as he made his way to the infirmary. He looked up as he heard oddly accented voices sounding out the common tongue of Masyaf. The speakers were doing well enough, despite the misplaced emphasis on some syllables and the just plain oddness of the voices that jarred his ears. 

The conversation halted as he neared the room. Jameel's brows rose as Altair moved by dressed in Novice robes. Well, if he'd been demoted to such a level, he may as well wear the uniform again. 

"What's wrong with your voice?" he asked. The demoted Master Assassin glanced back at him over his shoulder. 

"What's wrong with your...everything?"

"Business." The man limped the rest of the way into the infirmary. Lex lay on one of the pallets, giving him a wan smile when he entered, as if he'd been expecting him. "What happened to you?" _Stupid question, Jameel,_ he told himself, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Someone had to ask it; no, he had to ask it seeing as no one else seemed to have bothered apart from keeping the Novice's alive. Despite being a bloodless white, his lips had obviously done something with the stuff, as they'd split and bled a good bit from the look of the scabbing, and the rest of him looked similarly drained. 

Then again, he knew he didn't look much better with an arrow sticking out of his leg and glass littered down his side. It had pierced his light armor easily, leaving him to bleed his robes red. It hurt, but for now he would do as much as he could to shrug it off. _He needs more attention than I do._

"I dunno," came the rasped answer. "I just...fell over." Lex took a breath and forced himself to a sit, echoing the man's question, "What happened to you? You look like you ran into a window sideways." Jameel cracked a smirk. _If only that were so._ He watched as the boy coughed and grabbed a servant passing by with a pitcher of water, dropping to a heavy sit with a grunt. The servant merely bowed, unquestioning of how the Red Owl had received his wounds, knowing he would tend to them himself soon enough, as was his wont. Jameel gritted his teeth as he heaved Lex up by the back of his robes. 

"Get up. _Yallah._" He held the jug down to his level, letting him drink. He stole a swig before passing it back to the boy. Lex finally pulled away, coughing. "Easy." He took another drink himself. _He must have gotten sick from the heat..._

"Okay, I'm sick of looking at that. Hold still, would ya?" The Novice shifted to his other side and began picking out the bits of glass with deft fingers. Jameel watched as the boy he'd begun tending decided to do the same for him. Lex paused to wipe the blood off on his own pants and began picking again, putting pressure on the wounds to staunch as much of the bleeding as possible. Jameel picked at the glass, getting a particularly stubborn piece out of his shoulder. He also snapped the arrow that was still in his leg and removed it completely. It hurt, a twinge in his jaw the only outward sign of it. 

"I should have seen it coming..." he muttered, almost thinking aloud. "They knew..." Lex frowned. 

"Who knew?" He picked out the last bits of glass in his leg and daubed away the blood, taking a last, sparing sip from the pitcher before using the rest to cleanse the wound. "Hey, can you grab some bandages?" he asked to the servant who'd stood off to one side during the entire episode. When they returned, he took the roll and wound it around the wounds, tearing them with his teeth and tying them off tightly. 

"Ravenwatch." Jameel examined the arrowhead his leg had been stabbed with. The originally ebony stood out despite the coating of blood. Intricately made and tough to break, the edges curved backward into twin prongs with serrations around the edges. He dropped the arrow to the floor carelessly. He'd seen many of those, most of them zipping by his ear or his face, or scraping against his chest armor. There were even a couple that nearly killed him. For mercenaries, they knew what they were doing and were very good at it.

"Oh. They sound...bird-brained." Lex picked up the two halves of the arrow, working the wood around until the head popped off. Uncoiling the twine from the fletch of the arrow, black feathers drifting to rest on the floor with the broken shaft, he tied a knot around the arrowhead and fashioned himself a crude, sinister necklace. He didn't know what possessed the boy to do it. He wouldn't ask. 

"Far from it. They are very smart. Fooled many Assassins." He managed to get a piece of glass lodged in his lower shoulder out. _That was a deep one._ Hopefully none of the shards had broken inside his body. He'd have much trouble getting those itty bitty pieces of, especially if one was missed and found its way to his vitals. _This will scar..._

"I'd like to see that." Lex checked over his shoulder, picking out the smaller bits of glass by feel. He glanced up at Jameel as the man looked over at him. "Don't think they'd fool me." He looked away, bristling silently. Novices. They all thought themselves immortal and all-knowing until a sword was thrust through their stomachs when they fell for a feigned retreat by the enemy. 

Jameel stared at the floor as he spoke, "They had me think they were coming to Masyaf, but they found me in Acre instead. If that's not deceit, then I don't know what is." Indeed, it was almost a tactic of theirs to make people paranoid, for then the target would make a mistake. One misstep and they struck. They also had the knack of showing up in the worst of spots: a foggy Acre for one. To top all this off, their movements were forged around well-trained, large groups and well-crafted weapons. It was like they were bred to hunt Assassins. 

"See, now, that's what you did wrong. That's like standing on the high ground and calling somebody out for a fight and then being on the low when they get there." Lex broke into his musings as he sat next to him, crossing his legs and holding onto them as he leaned against the air. Jameel bandaged the cuts on his side and shoulder. "Why not just call up your friends'n'clothesline the bastards when they meet you on your terms thinking they're theirs?" He stood and put his weight on his leg. It held. "Huh." The sound was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh as he walked the width of the room before sitting back down. 

"That's the problem. They'll send one of their crows as scouts. They usually follow that bird and attack something. This time they used it like a calling." Unpredictable, that's what they were. Part of their paranoia tactics, setting people on edge by doing the utterly unexpected. He'd even heard the guards in the cities they'd hounded him to call them madmen in masks because of their actions. Well, it worked for them, and he could only hope the Templars didn't catch wind of the deceptive ploy and set its use in order for themselves.

"Oh, for God's sake, Jameel, shoot the bird, stuff the damn thing, and mount it to the gates of Masyaf!" Lex said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You'll have a nice, big collection of cheap ass, ugly as sin birds to sell for a tidy profit, too, if you like milking the tourists." 

Jameel did not respond, but glared icy daggers against Lex. Oh, he wanted to shake him. He wanted to shake that boy until his bones rattled; he wanted to give him the good lashing his parents obviously never had so that he'd never speak in such a way as this again as long as he lived in his home. It would never-had never-been that simple, and to come up with such a neat, tidy little plan flew in the face of all the years he'd been harried by the mercenaries and only just managed to get away. 

Lex flinched as the daggers hit home, an icy ball sinking through his chest to his stomach like a punch in the gut. Actually, several punches. A few kicks, too. And a wrecking ball. He bit his cheek and hung his head. _There goes my damn mouth._ He'd apologize for what he said, but later. Much later. It didn't seem healthy to attempt it at the moment. The Assassin stood and limped away. 

The Novice had hit a painful nerve, but Jameel wouldn't kill him for that, just brood on it. He took a seat on a ledge that overlooked a part of the village. _I shouldn't underestimate Ravenwatch._ The last time he had, it had almost been the last thing he did in life. _I still have the scars to prove that..._ Jameel absently fingered the scars on his chest, remnants of his near-fatal encounter with Ravenwatch. He'd still been young, young and stupidly cocky as that Novice, and almost as easily caught off his guard. These foes of his made great fighters, deceivers, thieves... _They'd make the Brotherhood proud..._

By the time the Red Owl heard his footfalls behind him, Lex had contemplated many things. How to keep his mouth shut. How to not open it without thinking first. How he'd rather face pirates, ninjas, those Ravenwatch people, Templars, and Assassins all at once, rather than slog around looking for someone who more than likely could kill him with a look. Hell, another bout of heat stroke would have been better. 

But there was the man before him. Lex sighed and braced himself to die with what little dignity he could muster. 

"Hey... Whatever I said, I'm sorry."

The Assassin turned his head to look at Lex, no longer having the death stare from earlier. Instead, it was replaced with regret. His hood was down, revealing fully a clean shaven, tan face and short, dark hair that wasn't as long as his own, which brushed the nape of his neck, but longer than Malik's, which the Novice had seen when the man had left the infirmary minus an arm. Jameel sighed and motioned him over. It took a minute for him to react, still not used to the downward facing hand with fingers curling toward it meaning "come here." 

Silence hung over them as Lex sat beside him, one arm propping himself up, the other across his bent knee, the previously splinted leg dangling over the ledge. 

He let out another breath and muttered, "Forgiven. You know..." _Of course he doesn't know, dolt,_ he reminded himself, but forged ahead, "All the near-death experiences I've had were when I was up against Ravenwatch. Not even the Templars have come close to killing me." He revealed the scars. "These are from the daggers and arrows that should have killed me." The boy's eyes widened considerably at the sight. Good. Let him see what they were capable of. Maybe it would be a lesson to him. "I'm still here through dumb chance." Jameel sealed up the robes. 

Silence resounded again for a time before Lex next spoke. 

"Means you're better than them, those." He looked him in the eyes. "You're still here. Means they aren't good enough to beat you." He looked away after a moment, drawing a few swirls in the dirt and hoping he wouldn't receive another death glare. Jameel shook his head. The words were sweet, but sweet nothings were still nothing when cold, somber fact was fixed before his eyes. 

"It's because they want me alive. If they wanted me dead, they would have done so the first moment I laid eyes on one of them. Their employer happens to be my brother, Kadin." His voice faltered. "He joined the Templars, hired those mercenaries by convincing King Richard..." The words died on his tongue. He dropped his head into his hands, hiding his face in his palms. He didn't say anymore, couldn't say anymore. He'd dubbed his brother a traitor for his actions, but it was still hard to kill a sibling, even one that made it perfectly clear he wanted to be an only child with countless attempts of fratricide. 

The other looked at him, unsure of what to do, what he was and wasn't allowed to do. Finally, he decided to screw the rules and throw caution to the proverbial wind. He looped an arm over the taller man's hunched shoulders. Jameel removed his hands from his face and looked at Lex. 

"Y'got friends, Jameel." It wasn't much, but it was all he could say, all he could offer. Not much more than a loyal arm and a blade to guard his back. Jameel looked at the slender arm draped over his shoulders and smiled. It wasn't one of the hollow smirks he usually gave to the other residents of the keep. No, this was a genuine smile. Lex returned it. 

"How's your leg?" For a moment, he looked confused, then shrugged.

"Better. Still sore, but walkable. Gonna be a bitch to break next time." 

"Feeling up to a little training?" 

"More books with squiggles and dots in them?" Ah, so Malik had finally started him on something, even if the boy did say it with the same expression as if he'd just been asked to eat a glob of manure. 

"No, sword training. We'll start easy and continue from there." Jameel gave him a conspiratorial glance as he slipped a throwing knife from its sheath at his belt. Even though Lex was Malik's student, he couldn't help but show the Novice what he knew. After all, he was looked on as wise and understanding, as any owl, and Malik had lost an arm, to add that to matters. "You may not be my Novice, but you still need training." 

"Yeah, sure, let's do it." He flipped the dagger between his fingers just to show off to his friend, Lex's eyes following the glinting blade as it tumbled end over end, up and down. Jameel almost laughed aloud as the realization hit him. A friend. He'd finally made a friend he could keep, not even the threat of his brother chasing him away. This day just got better.

**Yes, more character development! And yes, that was Desmond walking by Jameel and not Altair. As always, I'll keep writing if you guys keep reading, and if there's something you don't like feel free to tell me. I'll at least make note of it.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait, dear readers. School work's been hounding me for a while now. But here's the latest chapter for your enjoyment.**

**Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns AC and its characters and settings. Jameel and Ravenwatch are Kronoton's.**

Masyaf  
>1191<p>

"Does everybody have their own bird?" Lex hooked his thumbs in his pockets as he and Jameel walked to the training grounds. He watched a small cloud of dust skitter along the ground, carried by the wind. "Mean, Malik's got the hawk and everybody keeps bugging that Desmond guy about an eagle." 

Jameel shrugged and gave a noncommittal, "I don't know. If you must know what mine is, it's an owl." He watched as the boy tried to flip a dagger between his fingers as he'd done. His fingers reached out and snatched it from the air by the hilt, turning it over to return to its owner. "Desmond? Was he the one in the haystack?" _Hm... Desmond. What kind of name is that?_ "You say he's being confused for an eagle?" 

"Yeah. Al-tie-ear, people call him around here." 

"Al-taa-ir," the man corrected as they entered the yard. Lex took a seat on the wooden fencing that ringed the sword grounds. 

"Yep, that'd be Dessy. Don't tell him I called him that. He'd probably lob my head off." He chuckled as he thought of the man coming at him angrily, covered in hay. He turned the dagger in his fingers. "Think I'd be a sparrow," he murmured, almost to himself. "Yeah, a sparrow sounds like me. Quick, evil little nuisance bastards, aren't they?" He put the blade back in its sheath. "Sounds like yours truly." 

Jameel tested the weight of a second training sword as the boy rambled. He stepped inside the wooden ring and pulled Lex unceremoniously down from his perch. The boy staggered to his feet as he was tossed one of the swords, catching it awkwardly. He waved his hand, fingers stung from the wood. 

"First, to use a sword." Jameel moved a few paces away from where he stood and turned to face him. "Leave no openings in your attack. If you do, the enemy will find them and take advantage. The rest you'll learn as we go." He made a motion for Lex to attack him. Instead, he backed away, the sword held limply in one hand, eyes wider than before. The Master Assassin frowned. "Come then, strike at me!" 

Lex sidled forward one cautious step at a time, looking him up and down once, twice. He shifted, aimed at his left, then twisted and swung hard to his right, keeping his head low. Jameel picked up on the feint and blocked easily. Lex retreated again, head still ducked down as if he feared being struck. 

He sighed, "I won't hit you." Lex leaned back, almost brushing the fence with his back, all but giving him the Evil Eye. "I won't hit you," he repeated sternly. "I want to see what weaknesses you have and work them into strengths. Besides..." He tapped his leg with his palm. "I can't do anything due to this leg of mine."

The Novice eased himself forward until they were only a sword length apart. His eyes were on the injury his opponent had indicated. Was he planning a cheap shot? Jameel thought about it. Hopefully not. If he did, he'd have to get serious. Slightly. At least until he could be steered away from his current weakness. 

His planning was disrupted as Lex locked their swords. He shoved hard in an attempt to push Jameel back. Jameel gave, watching the boy land with a solid thud on his face in the dirt. He bolted up just as easily onto a knee, raising the sword defensively over his head. 

Lex was pulled to his feet the next moment. "You're holding it wrong." 

"Okay?" 

"See how I hold the sword?" Lex looked at Jameel's hand. He shifted his own down on the hilt. The man planted his sword point first in the dirt. "No." 

The boy staggered as he was turned around. The Master Assassin reached down over his shoulders to move his hands. He looked down as he felt the smaller body stiffen when he reached around him. Changing his grip was almost more of a chore than it was worth; his fists had clenched around the hilt and the base of the blade so tightly his knuckles were white. Finally, he finished and released him. Lex all but leaped away from him. 

Taking up the wooden sword again, Jameel continued with the training. He taught the kid everything he knew about fighting blade-to-blade, starting with defensive maneuvers and coaxing him into counterattacks. What powerful strokes he could make were usually middling height and for the life of him he couldn't get him to dodge at the right moments, but Jameel worked at him until he at least made an effort at lower and higher strikes and at points forced him to dodge with jabs toward his head. 

The sun drew its arc across the sky. 

Jameel finally called a halt as the shadows began to lengthen, moving to sit on the fence and catch his breath. He was more fatigued than usual. Sweat had doused the collar of his robes and stuck them down to his skin. If he'd seen his own reflection, he would have thought some ghost was playing a trick on him. _Must be the blood loss. This would have been easier if I'd been in top condition. Maybe I should have waited with this training._ He lifted his head as the boy leaned against the ring's boundary and wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He was breathing hard and his face was flushed, but the color was healthier than the pallor before in the infirmary. 

"Damn, I think I lost twenty pounds doing that." Lex laughed softly. 

"I see you're keeping up with your studies," a voice called. The two looked up at Malik. "He's been teaching you all the correct things to say, hasn't he?" The one-armed Assassin stepped up to the ring. Jameel watched the color drain from the boy's face. "What good is an Assassin who can't communicate?"

"Safety and peace upon you too, Malik," said the Novice with a snort. Malik cocked a brow at the boy's tone. The boy stuck a finger in his ear, wiggled it around, looked at it, and then at him.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying about me not being able to communicate?" 

"Show your mentor more respect." Lex flinched at the Red Owl's reprimand. Malik looked at his fellow Master before turning his eyes back to his student. 

"Yes, you should listen to him in this. Or I'll have the Red Owl come after you." Jameel opened his mouth, intent on seeing if the Hawk had used him as a boogey man for other Novices, but ended up with it full of dirt as he collapsed. 

"Jameel!" Lex was already at the man's side when Malik hopped over the fence. His thoughts whirled as he turned the Assassin over and pulled him up. "Grab his arm. Let's get him up." The boy put his free arm around the taller man's waist, his arm looped over his neck. He sagged under the dead weight until the other man took the rest onto his shoulders. 

Half dragging and half carrying him inside, the two brought him to the infirmary and set him down on Lex's pallet. "Grab him some water." Lex took a seat by Jameel and watched his chest for a moment to see if he was breathing. He checked his pulse, looking over his shoulder at Malik, who stood still on the spot, looking at them. "_Ya Malik!_" the boy shouted in frustration. It did the job, snapping the Assassin back to reality. He passed over a jug as the servants came to investigate the disturbance. 

The boy sat him up again and massaged a bit of water down his throat. When he lowered him back down, Malik took a seat and asked, "What happened?" 

"He was just showing me stuff." The boy had slipped back into his own tongue. "Came back hurt, though." 

"How badly?" Malik asked. The Novice looked at him uncomprehendingly, but the Master would be damned if he didn't learn how to speak with them, even under duress. "How badly?" This time said with more force. 

"G-g-glass all up and down his side." Lex waved his hand over his own. "In his shoulder and leg, too. An arrow in the other." His brows creased as he spat out the words. "We got it out and cleaned the wounds, stopped the bleeding, and bound it up tight." 

"Are you certain you removed all the glass?" Lex nodded. "Did you account for his blood loss?"

"How was I supposed to? He stood up and walked out!" Lex gripped at his head. "Oh, God, God, God..." He struggled against the panic welling up inside him. _Did we really get all the glass out? What if bits of glass're still inside him? How the hell would we do a transfusion of blood if he needs it? Do they even know about blood typing here?_ He smacked at his head. _Think! Think, stupid, think! You took anatomy. You took chemistry. You took biology. You took an athletic injuries class, for God's sake! Think!_

Malik watched as the boy began to move, muttering under his breath. He grabbed the pillows from the pallet and stacked them, propping Jameel's feet onto them. He looked between his legs and his head, then stood and went to the servants. He spoke with them quickly in hushed tones. They stared at him as if he'd gone mad, but the boy only said, "Go, go, go now! Do it!" 

"Whatever he said, do it," said Malik. The two women went off. The man looked at him. "What exactly do you have them doing anyway?" 

"Salt. I have them getting salt and more water. And a spoon." He looked at the various jugs and selected one and dumped its contents into a bucket on the table. He began pouring the water into the jug as the servants returned. He spooned two full and then a half amount of salt into the water and mixed it as well as he could. Turning on his heel, he crouched beside the Assassin again. Malik did the same this time, helping him to sit up. Lex poured the mixture into his mouth, a little at a time. 

The process lasted ages for the servants as well as the other Assassin. When the last dregs had been downed by the man, he was lowered. Lex pressed his fingers against his neck, watching his chest again. He let out a breath of relief, which the other attendees echoed. The Hawk stood and exited the room, murmuring about duties with which he had to attend. The servants returned to their usual tasks. Excitement over, Lex decided to do something more useful than waiting. He curled up on his side and caught about twenty out of forty winks. 

Jameel awoke to find a candle set off to one side on the table nearby. He grunted as he sat up, back against the wall. His head spun. He felt himself trembling, despite his arms and legs shooting pins and needles when he moved them. He was cold, he realized, extremely so. This was added to feeling as weak and wobbly as a newborn colt. Summoning up some scrap of will, he managed to rub his temples in irritation. 

He looked down at the sound of shifting cloth and sighed. That Novice. Malik's Novice. Where had that man gone anyway? Probably to tell Al Mualim about his blundering. He reached down and touched the boy's cheek with a cold hand. 

"Hn?" Lex blinked and sat up, pressing his hand to the cold spot. He felt like there were cotton balls stuffed in his mouth and throat. Reaching back, he took a cup of water and held it up. "Water's warm, but it's water." He handed it over to Jameel. "You okay?" 

He graciously took the water and downed it without hesitation. The Assassin lowered the half empty cup.

"Just blacked out. I'll be fine. You sound like you need water as well." He passed the cup back over. Lex took a swig. Jameel visibly relaxed as he took in his surroundings, knowing he was in a safe place and that he couldn't really go anywhere. If he tried, he'd probably just black out again. While he was stubborn, he wasn't stupid. _Only idiots walk around with hardly any blood in their body under the delusion that they're still fine._ A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he'd been just such an idiot earlier that day, but was quickly silenced. 

His thoughts churned over what must have happened to get him to the infirmary. Either Lex and Malik had gotten him help, or Lex and Malik had gotten him there themselves. He almost had to laugh at that image. They were a mess. All three of them. They practically had to do everything to keep each other from falling apart. One was missing an arm, the other had gotten heat stroke, and the last one had nearly bled to death. He grinned, staring up at the ceiling. He let Lex in on his thoughts, "We're a mess. You, Malik, and I." 

Lex choked on his drink as he laughed, "Yeah, we are. We really are." He sighed, drained the last of the cup's contents, and grabbed the jug. Filling the cup, he moved over to Jameel and took a seat beside him. He held out the cool water, mimicked his grin. "But I'm the dumbass here, so don't you guys go dying on me." Jameel took the proffered mug and drank. He set the empty cup aside and looked at his companion. 

"Not planning to. Assassins adapt. It's what we do." He tested his legs and arms. Still tingling. _Damn, I hate this. I want to go back out into the field, but I'm stuck here in Masyaf._ He shook his head. Bad idea. He steadied himself against the wall as his world spun. _I doubt I can take another barrage from Ravenwatch now anyway, so think of something else, Jameel._ His mind settled on their conversation from earlier. "Speaking of adapting Assassins, where's Desmond? He's not sleeping again, is he? Lazy..." 

"Shut up." Desmond stood in the doorway, what looked like a piece of gold fixed between his thumb and forefinger. The coin disappeared somewhere onto his person the next second as the Altair ibn La'Ahad look alike turned his gaze to them. "You two look like crap." He paused. "Wait, you called me by my name. Thank you!" _Finally, someone who doesn't call me Altair._

"Al-taa-ir." Lex smirked as the man's face turned from joyous to murderous, eyes on him now. "I'm kidding, Dessy." Now it looked stunned. 

"Did you just call me Dessy?" 

"Yup, now go back to pick pocketing or however you got that money." Desmond nodded, looking at a potential target in a gray-clad Novice. He moved after him. "Well, at least he's not sleeping in the hay anymore. How many times did somebody have to jump on him for that to happen?" Lex sat back against the wall and tried to find a comfortable position. "What do we do now? Malik's out, the bird-brains are still after you..."

"We relax for right now. Eat, drink, and recover." Jameel grinned. "Oh, and watch Desmond be an ass." Lex laughed. The Master Assassin looked up as the other Novice entered the room again, having chased down another unfortunate. He looked the man in the face. He wouldn't confuse him for Altair again now that he knew the difference, but this was starting to rattle his brain. _He walks like him, talks like him, looks like him... They have to be related somehow. Altair isn't one to settle down, though. At least, I don't think so._ Jameel rubbed his temples again. "Seriously, Desmond, who are you? You're not Altair, yet you act like him." 

The two time travelers looked at each other. 

"You wouldn't believe me," Desmond said as he took a seat. 

"Try me." A pregnant pause followed. 

"I'm Altair ibn La'Ahad's great-great-great-great"-he ticked off the greats on his fingers-"great-great-great-great-grandson." The two males waited as the other digested this information. Jameel steepled his fingers. 

"You know, I've encountered this before. Nightmares, delirium, so on and so forth, caused by severe stress and pressure. This must be a serious case, though. I thought you just said you're Altair's-" 

"Eight times great-grandson. I did." 

"You can't expect me to believe that." 

"Desmond, empty your pockets," Lex broke in suddenly. 

"What?" 

"Empty your pockets." He began shedding items from his own. His iPod and a clip of bills as well as some change and the keys to his apartment were placed in a neat pile on the floor. Desmond took out his wallet and flipped it open to reveal his fake ID, which the Templars hadn't bothered to take. The pair remained silent as the man inspected the items, turning the bills over in his hand, reading the ID, feeling the wallet's material. He looked at the bills with a roll of his eyes and set them aside, took one of the quarters and bit it experimentally. He spat the taste from his mouth and took the iPod in both hands, eyes turning to Lex. He set the device down and looked at Desmond. 

"The descendant of Altair ibn La'Ahad. Tell me, what do you do with your life, besides come here?" 

"I'm a bartender. I mix alcoholic beverages and give them to men who want to drown their day to earn my bread. My parents raised me to be an Assassin, but I didn't want to be. The Templars found me, captured me, and tried to use me to locate some treasure. A Piece of Eden, they call it." The man looked at the boy. "I don't know about him. I met him when we ended up here somehow. All I'd like to do is get home."

"And you?" Lex looked at him. 

"I don't know him. I don't know how we got here. All I know is, I found him in the building and when I went over and grabbed onto him, poof. Here we were." 

"Yeah, thanks for that. Don't ever touch me again." 

"Whatever." 

"Oh, yeah, when we get back, I'll introduce you to my friend. His name's restraining order." 

"Silence!" Jameel snapped. "Quiet. Let me think." 

The Assassin was pretty much surprised when the two had finished their explanation and settled to squabbling. His brain was abuzz with the information. Altair _was_ the kind to settle down. He stored that for later. Perhaps a few jibes would be inspired by this little tidbit. His eyes widened. If Altair's descendant was here, as well as Altair, then that chanced his bloodline ending. Now it was clear he would have to be a silent guardian to the man's bloodline as long as Desmond was here. After all, what better duty than to guard the best of the best from being wiped clean entirely by the Templars? 

He picked apart the rest of the information as the men put their belongings back where they'd come from. Being able to dissect and analyze a situation was something all Assassins were expected to be able to do, in case the scouts failed to do so. Jameel took his job seriously, this part as any other. His icy blue stare shifted back and forth between the two boys from the future. 

"So that explains everything." They nodded, as if uselessly answering the statement. "Well, if I didn't think so before, now I _know_ I have to get you two home." 

"Desmond, anyway," Lex said, setting his arms across his knees and his chin on them. "Not like my being here screws up the time-space-continuum. Wait, then, how would you get us home?" His eyes turned to the man beside him. "It's not like the Templars here have a time machine stashed with all their loot." 

"These Pieces of Eden Desmond mentioned. I keep hearing about them. Maybe they can help." Jameel got himself comfortable as they talked, reclining against the wall. This would take a while to heal and there was no sense in sitting rigid with his back to the stone. He now knew the full lethality of Ravenwatch's glass arrows. Untreated, they could cripple or even kill someone, but all the glass had been removed. He wasn't going back out anytime soon, but a puzzle was on hand in the safety of the keep, in the infirmary no less, so he relaxed further than usual. 

"Eden?" Lex asked as Desmond stood and followed a servant around the corner. He leaned back, putting his head back into his hands as he lay on his back, head near Jameel's leg. "What, somebody parceled off the Garden or something?" He began to fidget, unable for some reason to get comfortable. When he reached up and took Jameel's hand, the man allowed him to place it on his head. "Ah, there we go." His squirming ceased. _Hm...Soft hair..._

"I don't really know what they are, but I've heard they're great treasures waiting to be found." His fingers absently combed through the boy's hair. It was greasy and clung to his fingers, in need of a good washing, but soft. "I don't know what they look like, where they come from, or even if they're worth the trouble of finding." He paused in combing through the mess atop the boy's head to eyeball Desmond. The man tackled the most recent, unfortunately Novice to the floor, shouting at him to give something back. He didn't deserve Desmond's wrath. The ones that deserved it were the Templars. 

An idea struck him. 

"Desmond." 

"One second." Desmond picked up the Novice by the feet and shook him. He dropped the poor boy and picked up his wallet. "Yeah?" 

"How would you like to learn how to do night runs?"

**To all those who've reviewed thus far, thank you. I'll try to update on the weekends if projects allow. Hope you all didn't have to wait too long. You keep reading, I'll keep writing.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **AC characters and settings belong to Ubisoft. Jameel and Ravenwatch are Krono's.

Masyaf

1191

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Desmond sounded about as enthusiastic as if Jameel had told him he'd just found a web video made entirely of the introductory nature shots from movie trailers. _Anything to help get me out of this place for a while._

"Can I come?" Lex looked up at Jameel. "What else am I gonna do? Tan more?" He'd been relegated to the keep and the village proper, only allowed brief excursions outside the gates, and these were stopped when he reached the end of what he'd dubbed Masyaf's driveway, a long, winding trail that led to what looked like an old set of Roman pillars. Apart from that, he'd developed a healthy farmer's tan sitting outside doing the busy work Malik gave him, or just listening to the people and trying to pick up more of the language. He was happy about how quickly he'd been able to pick it up in the first few days he'd been listening-surprisingly, there were plenty of English words in it. At least, he'd thought they were English words. He'd actually run up to Desmond's hay bale on one occasion when Jameel was away, jumping up and down, easily clearing two feet from the ground, a giddy little kid, yelling, "Desmond, Desmond, candy! They've got candy here!" _Quandi_ wasn't exactly candy, but it was the first sugar rush he'd had in ages. He'd eaten the little treats until his stomach hurt. 

"Yes, you can come, Lex." Jameel stood and immediately regretted it. He fell back against the wall, nearly blacking out again. 

"Stop giving yourself a head rush," said the boy as he steadied him. The Master Assassin made a tsking sound of annoyance, but didn't reprimand Lex for reprimanding him. He was the one who kept forgetting he was stuck with doing low profile actions or none at all for the moment. He'd have to teach them through words. Although that wasn't his style, he had to try. 

The trio moved down into the training yard, helping Jameel down the steps. "Careful. I don't think Dessy wants to carry you." 

"What'd you say, short ass?" Desmond gave him a sour look across the Red Owl as they let him down on the grassy side of the courtyard. 

"Nothing you didn't point out yourself, Miles." The man was seriously considering feeding the kid one of his daggers. Instead, he dragged his temper back home and looked at Jameel. "All right, what first?"

"Stay on the alert when doing a night run. There are usually more guards at night. You also have to map and know the area well. After all, there's hardly any light." _You're telling me,_ Desmond thought. He'd grown used to the constant lights of the city, the buzzing thrum of life, even at night. The quiet and darkness here almost unnerved him. "The risks are great, but the rewards are even greater. Bodies are hardly seen; hardly any beggars or citizens to deal with, and the target in question will be either asleep or relaxing from a tough day. When their guard is down, strike hard, and then vanish into the night. The only mess will be seen in the day and you'll be long gone before they ever think to search for you." 

It was no wonder now to the time travelers why he was called an owl. _He has this night thing down in all directions. Might as well call him a stealth tactician._ Desmond shook his head in wonder. _Jameel knows what he's doing. This Assassin's got the guts to look Death in the face and laugh, probably._

"Got it. Whose place do we hit first? The Templars'?" 

"It's stealth," Jameel explained, "not suicide." He was coming to realize who the child out of the two before him was. "I need to teach you two how to fight in the dark and blinded as well. As you can tell, we won't be doing that tonight." 

"Damn it!" Desmond looked like he was going to stamp his foot on the ground and throw a tantrum. "What the hell, man! Just what the hell! I could be sleeping in that nice, warm hay right now, but no. You said you were going to show us how to do this. If you..." Jameel tuned him out, eyes turning to the other boy. Lex was swaying on his feet; chin down against his chest, hair falling in his eyes. 

The man shook his head and cut off Desmond's ranting, "Fine. I suppose you two can spar and I'll give you the directions on how to fight while blinded. This will come in handy when light is scarce." He settled in to watch. At least I can watch them. The two entered the training ring. _I'm down, but I'm not out. Never. Not until my last breath._

"Where are the blindfolds?" Jameel cocked his head at the question. 

"It's night already, but if you insist." He tossed them both long strips of clean cloth. The Novices tied them on. Leaning into the grass, he started with their lesson, "Use your other senses. Because one isn't working, it doesn't mean you're unable to use the others. Control and use of environment is important. That also includes detecting any strange things happening, such as abrupt movements and the sound of a sword being removed from its sheath. This is how I defend myself if I am detected." _Usually,_ a voice nagged from the back of his mind. He gave it mental thrashing. 

His eyes focused on the ring as movement caught them. Lex crouched down, pulling his boots off and setting them aside. He shifted backward, arms out at his sides. Desmond looked around ineffectively, strained his ears. He edged forward, listened for the kid, and walked squarely into the fence. He swore under his breath.

The Sparrow's head cocked as he heard the swear. He kept his head turned in that direction and took in a long breath through his nose, teeth clamped onto his bottom lip to keep from panting through it. He blinked behind the blindfold. The tang of Axe and sweat reached his nose, growing stronger. He touched his fingertips to the ground and moved backward until he felt grass touch his toes. There he rose and continued until he was jarred from whatever mode he'd set himself into by the touch of stone to his back. Fingers instinctively touched the solid, pitted rock. Slapped it experimentally. 

Desmond gagged as he yet again ran into the fence, falling over it completely and rebounding onto his feet. He hurried to the noise as Lex padded off to one side, blundering right into the immovable obstacle. 

"This will also help develop your warriors' sense-the ability to detect something's amiss, even when you don't see it." Jameel smiled, amused at the students stumbling around like newborn pups. He wanted to laugh at them, but remembered the he'd had to learn the same thing. The Owl kept the laugh to himself as Lex moved by, a little farther from the wall than before. His outstretched fingers nearly grazed the top of the Master's head as he went. 

Lex threw himself out of the way as he heard the pounding of feet behind him, Desmond sailing headlong into the dirt. The boy rolled onto his feet, breathing faster, trying to find his equilibrium again as he backed up against the training ring. The Eagle snarled, rubbing his scraped face as he spun around in a circle. _When I get ahold of that little bastard, I'm wringing his scrawny neck, time travel or not!_

"Jameel." Lex let out a loud scream as the voice from behind him shattered his concentration. Desmond drew up sharply as the one-armed Assassin stopped his charge toward the boy. When he was passed, he pounced, bringing the boy into the sand of the training ring. 

"Stop scaring the students!" Jameel's swift glare turned to the other man. "They're learning how to fight in the dark." 

"Jameel, I must speak with you." 

"What of?" His eyes flicked to the two who'd frozen where they'd fallen, heads turned toward them. "Desmond, Lex, back into position. Did I say practice was ended?" The Red Owl motioned for the Hawk to take a seat. If Malik didn't scare them witless, he might make progress with these ones. 

The Novices rolled, kicking up sand as they traded scrapping punches and kicks and snaps with their teeth and heads. The Eagle pinned Lex down, hammering his face with his fist. Lex spat, palming his throat had before kicking him off and rolling away. Desmond crouched, listening for the smaller male's quick breathing. 

Jameel kept his eyes on the trainees, making sure they didn't hurt themselves too badly. He knew the man beside him well enough to know he could wait. The Assassin didn't need a distraction while technically on duty.

Desmond walked the perimeter of the ring. Lex took off at a run, slamming the taller man back against the fence. He gagged as a punch went into his kidneys, the breath jolted out of his lungs as he was picked up under a knee and shoulder and dropped onto his back. Desmond's eyes widened behind the cloth as he fell, his knee caught by the boy's foot. Lex pushed up and brought his weight down into a punch on Desmond's stomach. 

The bartender caught him by the shirt and shoved him down into the dirt, punching him across the face. He yelled as a knee suddenly slammed up between his legs, clutching at his head when something set his eyeballs to rattling in his skull-the boy's arm. Lex stood up, panting around the blood from his lip. Tears burned his eyes, soaked the fabric in front of them. _Why the hell'm I crying?_ He coughed and spat again, backing up; arms in front of him like a boxer. 

Jameel stood. 

"Enough. Try to get some sleep. We've been at this nearly all night." 

Desmond shed his sweat-soaked blindfold and hobbled to the boundary of the training ring. He gave Jameel a parting wave and made for the nearest hay bale. He dropped down and disappeared; glad to be away from that little ball-bashing menace. 

Lex twisted the strip of cloth around in his hands after he removed it. He wiped the blood from his face onto his sleeve, staining the once pristine robes further as he moved to one wall and sat. He fell asleep as the first strains of the _adhan_ broke through the pre-dawn air. 

Jameel retreated into the castle to get some shut eye. Hopefully, there would be a mission soon. _I'll have to give those Novices some tips, though, if they're going to fly out of the nest on their own._

"Jameel!" The man stopped and turned to Malik. He'd almost forgotten the other man's presence. Almost. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"It's too early for such vagaries, Malik. Speak plainly. I'm weary enough of petty squabbles." 

"The Novices. What do you plan to do with them?" 

"I'm showing them how to perform night missions. Nothing more." His eyes narrowed at his brother. "You've been lazy too." 

"Lazy, have I? Excuse me while I was getting my arm severed from my body due to Altair's stupidity and arrogance. We can't all ride from Acre with war wounds, Jameel."

"Wounds be damned. I don't see you teaching either of those boys anything. I haven't seen you attend to their studies since I returned either, apart from coming on us in the training yard twice now." 

"That is what I wish to speak to you about." Malik ran a hand through his hair. "Al Mualim is sending me to the Bureau in Jerusalem." 

"You're to become a Rafiq." Jameel sighed inwardly. Malik Al-Sayf locked inside of a Bureau. Helpful to the Assassins still, but a shame nonetheless to see him go. 

"Yes." Malik stepped forward to a more comfortable distance. "I've spoken to Al Mualim about the boy. I would pass his training into your hands, if you agreed as much." His lip curved into a wry smirk. "You've stolen him already, Jameel. He's shadowed you since he came. What sense would there be in my retaining his place as my student?" He set his hand on the man's shoulder. "Train him well." 

"With pleasure." Jameel squeezed his shoulder in return, barely sparing his rolled-up sleeve a glance. "Safety and peace be upon you, Malik." 

"Upon you as well." The Red Owl found his way into the robing room of all places, thinking it the infirmary. Sprawling out on a mess of tunics that had somehow fallen to the floor, he slept. He didn't care where it was. 

Jameel awoke earlier than expected in a cold sweat. _Same nightmare again... Why?_ Things were going so well until he encountered Ravenwatch again. It had been a few days since Malik's departure. Now the nightmares were returning. _Am I afraid of them? Probably. They are pretty scary._ He tried to go back to sleep again, but a few hours later he awoke again. _Same dream. I can't sleep like this._

He got up and wandered the halls, traversing the library several times before he stopped to get something to eat. He wandered a bit more, this time out into the courtyard and through the barbican. His feet carried him down to the first buildings of the village. What reached his eyes was fast becoming a foregone conclusion to the question "And what will I see sometime today?" 

The Novice-his Novice now-was leaned against the wall of a house. His hands were pressed to his eyes. 

"Lex? Is something the matter?"

"Huh?" He looked over at Jameel as the Master Assassin came to stand in front of him. "Oh, hey." Not over, really, by the time he finally stood still. More up than over. He rubbed at his eyes. "Nah, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong." He smiled. "See? I'm fine." Jameel's gaze wasn't frozen this time. Instead, it was a neutral stare. 

"Something _is_ wrong." The man leaned against the wall, standing on his good leg, the one the arrow had pierced. Something was definitely bothering Lex. He could tell, no matter how hard the boy swiped at the tear trails on his face. "What is it?" He fell silent after the question, waiting. 

"It's stupid." Lex's eyes flitted up to his face, then away. "Just...I dunno." He folded his arms across his chest, hugging himself. "I dunno." He shrugged, fists clenching over the sleeves of his robes. "I-I'm pissed off, all right? I'm pissed off." 

"Who are you angry with?" 

"Myself. I'm mad at myself. Okay, okay, look. There's this person that I've met and I-I don't know." The Novice looked away, the wall at his side a very interesting phenomenon at this time. "Told you it was stupid." _Would doing a swan dive off the tower and falling head first into the ground be so bad right now? Doesn't seem like it._

"Sounds like, to me, you're jealous, or starting to be. Why is that?" Jameel allowed his curiosity to surface in his face. He didn't mean anything nasty by the question; he merely want to know. Who or what could have gotten this Sparrow so ruffled? 

Lex opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. A light splash of color dusted his sun-darkened face. _What can I say? That I'm going out of my mind? That I'm an absolute God damned moron?_ He averted his eyes from the icy ones as he said, "Yeah, sounds about right." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's a stupid reason, the one I have in my head, at least." Turning, Lex stood with his back to the wall. He pulled an ear bud out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers, eyes kept pointed toward the ground. "Hey, can I go jump into that over there?" He gestured toward the sharp drop into the river that awaited someone unlucky enough to miss their hay bale below the tower. 

"No." Jameel could have sworn he felt his eyeball twitch at that question. "I know what you can do, though." Lex took the bait, lifting his head and facing him. "I'm in need of some information that I cannot possibly retrieve while in my current state. My target is currently stationed in Acre." 

The Master Assassin began to walk down the slope with him. After a full minute of waiting, the boy said, "And?" 

"That's all I know." Jameel stopped at the edge of the market. "Care to ride to Acre with me to get further information?" He added as an afterthought, "Desmond can come if he wants."

"What kind of question is that? Of course!" Jameel stumbled, taken aback as Lex hugged him impulsively. "I'll get the horses and Dessy." Hurrying off through the crowds came almost immediately afterward. The trade-off worked splendidly. A little something to distract them from their everyday problems and experience in the field that would come in handy for later. The Red Owl took a moment to look at his waist before he slipped into the market area, his destination the stables. The ghost of the Novice's arms remained around his middle, no matter the people who jostled him. 

Meanwhile, a hand shook Desmond's arm. The man sighed in his sleep. I'm going to rip the face off whoever this is. 

"Hey, Dessy." Yep, face-ripping will ensue. He opened his eyes and stared at Lex. "We got a mission." 

"Hnn? Really?" Desmond stood and stumbled out of the hay. "Great. I'm coming." He shoved himself further into wakefulness as he trekked down the hill after Lex and to the stables. The boy led three of the horses out. The bartender was alone in his efforts as he struggled to get on the animal's back, hopping on one foot and trying to swing his leg up and over into the saddle. 

Lex swung up into the saddle after a few jumps, holding the reins of Jameel's horse for the Assassin to mount. The man had a minor bit of trouble getting up due to his leg, but managed it after a few minutes and took the reins. 

"Where are we going?" Desmond asked as he picked up the strips of leather in front of him, imitating the others. His heart jumped into his skull as the animal moved into a trot of its own accord. 

"To Acre!" called Jameel.

**Another chapter for you all's enjoyment. :3 The next one may or may not come soon, depending on projects.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **AC and its characters © to Ubisoft and Jameel, Kadin, and Ravenwatch are the property of Kronoton.

**I'm also sorry beforehand if this document looks strange in any way. It glitched before when I uploaded the first one, so I re-uploaded. If it still freaks out, my apologies. Please, try reading anyway.**

Acre

1191

The first day out was a mess. By the time the Assassins found a suitable place to rest beyond the mountains at the first day's end, there had been a good deal of swearing from all members of the party. Jameel cursed his leg; Lex continued to forget that the horn on the saddle wasn't to grip onto when the horse galloped and as a result had rubbed off good deal of skin on the flat of his hand; and Desmond was saddle sore. 

"Arabian saddles," the smaller Novice groaned. 

"How do you sit on that thing again?" Desmond asked, gesturing to his horse. 

"Use your legs to grab the horse," said Jameel as they began to settle in for the night. 

"That just makes it go faster." Lex pouted and tossed a piece of stick into the fire. The stick crackled, sparks sent up into the air. The Master Assassin looked at him, a grin smeared onto his face. "Do-not-laugh!" Thankfully, he didn't. Simply looked at him and shook his head, grin still on his face as they closed their eyes. 

Hooves thundered down slopes beyond the checkpoints set up by the guard. The city had come into sight, finally, on their fifth day of travel. Jameel's speckled gray horse was the first to react, moving into a full gallop, not stopping for an instant as passersby shouted at them to watch out for them on the road.

Concern sprang to his mind after the relative tranquility of the journey. They had to keep moving. The target was there for a short period of time, shorter than usual. They had to get the information and track him before he could move again. There had to be a reason he chose now of all times to be in Acre, but it was unfathomable for the time being. 

His thoughts dissipated as the two Novices caught up to his speeding mount, one on either side. Lex sat straight-backed in the saddle, reins twisted around his hands as his knees gripped the animal's sides. He looked like he was beginning to enjoy the rhythmic, frenzied pace. Desmond, on the other hand, had a stranglehold on his horse as it charged besides its stablemates, head and tail high, ears pricked up. 

The horses slowed to a trot as they found what the city offered them: food. Desmond bounced to one side as his horse stopped, falling off into the hay as it bent its neck to eat. 

"Is that Acre?" he managed as he looked up at the walls, speckled on the outside with small huts and more piles of hay, some against the wall itself, others interspersed around the road. Jameel dismounted and let his horse eat as he stared up at the entrance. 

"Yes, that's Acre. Let's find a way inside." Lex dismounted and helped a trembling, sore-assed Desmond up onto his feet. By that time, Jameel had managed to climb up the wall and get atop the beams that spanned the lower half of the gate's arched entrance, standing directly above the guards' heads. He managed to control his bad leg long enough to hop across the beams and get inside, dropping down to the ground. He took a seat on the nearest bench and rested his back against the stone behind him. Now all that was left to do was wait for the Novices to find their way inside. 

Desmond cracked his back and climbed up onto the beams, using Jameel's way in. He swung down and rolled to a stop in front of the Red Owl. The two men looked up as a group of white-clad men walked in through the guards, heads bowed. 

"Who?" mouthed the bartender. 

"Scholars," was the answer as Lex slipped between two of the men and walked over to them, smiling beneath his hood. Jameel nodded to him and explained the mission: "I'm in need of information about a man named Kadin. See what you can find." He dropped his head, looking like one of the scholars had decided to take a break. This worked to fool the guards and most Templars; with luck, it would possibly fool any Ravenwatch members. 

"Kadin. Got it."

"Safety and peace upon you both." Desmond moved off from the bench and strolled into the crowd, disappearing. Lex waited a few seconds until he was sure Desmond had left the vicinity before pocketing his hands and shifting his shoulders. He waded into the throngs. _Headsets or something would be really great right now._ Insanely suicidal as it was, he figured listening in on the Templars wouldn't be so bad for reconnaissance. The boy slid up to a wall beside which some of the knights had clustered and set his ears to listening. 

His intuition paid off. The knights were talking about the man-trivial things, mostly, such as attitude, weight, height, rumors spread from the gossip-mills-but it was information all the same. Lex settled in to wait until they stopped chattering and jumped when the conversation came to a sharp halt. They'd been interrupted by the target in question. Rumor hadn't lied either. Kadin was _huge_. He easily towered over the other two knights; Lex estimated their heads reaching around five-foot-seven, six feet in height. The weapon on his back only made him even more intimidating. It was a two handed mace, almost the same size as its wielder, a large knob-like steel head at one end about two inches around and a balance on the other, deadly in its simplicity. 

"You're not paid to stand around idle! Get back to work," said Kadin. Lex shuddered. The man didn't even raise his voice and the knights snapped to it. He walked on. The Sparrow moved after him. 

Desmond stood beside one of the city churches, watching as the big man moved passed. A pair of black bodies stirred in the shadows. They moved into the light, what looked like skeletal Mardi Gras masks over their faces. They were as silent as ghosts, following Kadin just a pace or so behind. Whether bodyguards or not, it was hard to tell. 

The two Novices could see plainly how they parted the crowds, the citizens of Acre backpedaling to get out of their way. 

"You see that guy?" Lex murmured. 

"How the hell could someone _miss_ that guy?" Desmond snapped. "What do we do now? He's gonna get away." 

"Go back and tell Jameel." The Eagle raised a brow. Lex looked at him flatly. "I'm less of a threat than you, Miles." Point taken, Desmond turned and threaded his way back to the Assassin as the Sparrow wandered along after the stupidly huge man and his black entourage. 

The boy followed them through a maze of battle-scarred streets and back alleys. The tangy smell of salt reached his nose. Kadin moved toward the docks, his black-wearing posse still in tow. Lex kept an eye on them. They looked like bird people with their beaked, white masks and the feathers that covered their heads like odd hoods. Black feathers on shafts peeked from beneath their equally plumed cloaks. Black arrows. Their shadows looked especially avian; the bandy-legged crows were almost comical. Almost. These bodyguards must have been what attacked Jameel.

One of them stopped. 

This caused the other to stop, which caused Kadin to stop as well. 

The mercenary held up one hand and looked over his shoulder. He walked back while Kadin and his partner waited. He halted and looked around, scanning. 

The Sparrow stayed curled where he was between a pile of netting and boxes the dock workers had left behind. _C'mon!_ he found himself praying. _Move, damn you! Keep going!_ He swallowed soundlessly and held his breath, listening and waiting. Finally, the mercenary turned back and walked on with Kadin, the big man resuming his patrol. _That was close._ Lex took in a few long breaths, counting to five-one-thousand in his head before slinking along behind them once more, keeping himself to the crowds and the shadows. And the occasional cart, barrel, or roof garden when needful. _What does Jameel want to do to this guy if he captures him? Bludgeon him to shit with big rocks?_

The boy climbed out of the cart he'd been hiding in most recently, freezing on the spot and ducking down behind it. Both mercenaries had turned abruptly, arrows already nocked to their bows. Kadin raised his arm, a silent command to lower their bows. They did as told. The big man smirked. 

"Come out, boy. I know you've been following us. I can hear your feet." _Oh, crap._

X x X

Jameel looked up at Desmond as the man came into view. Wasting no time, he said, "What did you find?"

"We found the man!" Desmond snarled. "You said nothing about him being as big as a linebacker!" 

"A what?" Jameel swore under his breath in frustration. "Never mind. I can't help my brother's height. I just needed confirmation that he's here." 

"Wait, your what?" Desmond did a double take at the man, who glanced toward the streets where the people milled about. "Dude, I feel sorry for your mom." 

Jameel nodded, "Yes, I felt sorry for her, too. My father as well." A familiar knot of anxiety was forming in his stomach, the same as when he'd returned to Masyaf. The Assassin stood. "Where's Lex?" 

That was the question of the day. Desmond sighed, "I don't know. We split up. Last I saw, he wasn't in any-" 

"He's following Kadin, is he not? He's in plenty of trouble..." He took off. Desmond hurried after the man. 

"Hey! We don't even know where the hell he is!" The barkeep struggled to keep up. Injured as Jameel was, he was going quick as he was able, shoving those who wouldn't get out of his way aside. The gnawing apprehension was bolstered by what he knew. He had to find Kadin. His brother was not only strong, but agile for his size, proven by the many times he'd been cornered in one of the slim alleyways of Masyaf. Thin and lithe as he'd been, he hadn't been able to evade his grasp. No doubt now he'd be accompanied by Ravenwatch mercenaries. 

The Red Owl's gorge rose. If things went Kadin's way, he wouldn't have a Novice anymore. His brother would deliver him a pierced, crushed corpse as a farewell gift. Jameel rushed faster, pushing himself to his limits as Desmond struggled to clip at his heels. He had to find Lex.

X x X

Fingers moved the arrowhead around his neck, clipping the twine with one of its saw-teeth. Lex came out with his hands up, the stringed arrowhead tucked into his sleeve. 

"You heard me? Really? And here I thought you were all brawn, little brain, and no auditory function whatsoever." He gave the trio's leader a cheeky smirk. "Well, let's get this over with. I don't have all day to turn your fan boys there into disgusting mantel ornaments." 

Kadin's smirk, which had appeared on his face the moment the boy revealed himself, became a diabolical grin.

"Sounds fun." The big man whistled sharply, more of the masked men appearing. His posse swelled from two to eight: four at ground level, two on the rooftop in front of him, two on the one behind. They each had arrows strung and pulled taut, ready to fire. 

For a moment, all was silent, a stare down. Even the civilians, who gave them a wide berth simply for the want of not being hit by a stray bolt, had quieted down so that only the shuffling of their feet and clothing could be heard. The boy shattered the tension, lunging forward and swinging the arrowhead for one of the merc's throats. He dodged back as Lex released the string, the sharp point caught harmlessly in some of the feathers of his headdress. 

Daggers drawn now, he wheeled on the others. They parted out of his reach, away from the stabbing points and away from the giant mace that was already coming down! The boy twisted to the side, a crater forming where he'd stood moments before. He shifted his weight, aiming for the man's outstretched arm. Kadin moved back, his mace taking the blow. Lex gasped, an arrow zipping by his cheek. He hadn't noticed how hemmed in he'd become, ringed by the four on the ground, daggers in all their hands, and the four above, who'd decided to take pot shots at this unlucky fish in their barrel. 

More arrows rained down as Kadin picked up his mace and fled.

X x X

Jameel heard something shatter, saw many glinting shards flying through the air. One of the mercenaries had released a glass arrow. The Assassin hung for a moment in mid-stripe, the momentum of going quick as his body would allow carrying him to a sliding stop. 

"There's a Bureau close by. It's a safe haven for both of you. Desmond, find Lex and get him out of there." 

The bartender stammered, "Oh, yeah, and what the hell do I tell his stupid ass when he asked where you went?" 

He received a heavy shove from the man, who ignored his question and shouted, "Quickly, before they have a chance to release more arrows!" The Eagle threw his arms up in the air and hurried on. _Wonderful!_

Jameel went off to find Kadin.

X x X

"I really hate you right now."

The last ten minutes had been a slow motion nightmare. Lex had all but become a Ravenwatch pincushion. The prong-ended, serrated arrows had buried themselves in his arms and thigh, one scoring his back and another clipping his shoulder. 

One of the mercs had pulled out a clear-looking arrow. Literally clear. The arrow was released from the rooftops, shattering on impact with the ground. The other mercenaries promptly took cover from the merciless shards. Lex had dropped to a crouch and curled up, shielding his face and neck with his arms. 

And now... 

"Des?" He pried open his eyes as Desmond yanked out the arrow from his right arm, then the one in his leg. Cuts bloodied the bartender's hood-shadowed face. 

"This better not scar, or I'll never let you hear the end of it," he growled, hauling the other Novice up and racing away from the mercs. The Eagle picked up the other time traveler, carrying him like a football until they were out of sight of the feathery posse. He set the boy down. 

"Where'd Jameel go?" Lex flinched as the other arrow was pulled from him. Desmond groaned. 

"We are not splitting up again! He told us to head for the Bureau, that it's a safe. Help's there." 

"Good. Then go get them." 

"Are you deaf or something? I said we're not splitting up again!" 

"You've got longer legs than me and I'm already bleeding! Go get help already, for God's sake." The man gave him a long look before grasping his head. He looked around for a landmark, anything to indicate where the Bureau might be. His eyes widened. _There!_ An eagle flew overhead, and Desmond watched it fly. In a corner of his mind, in some ancient memory not his own, he knew it circled above the Bureau, as if it knew it had to signal its grounded allies. 

"Fine." He shot the boy a look as he took off along the docks at a limping run. The bartender turned and threw himself headlong up the nearest wall, grasping a window ledge and scrambling up. His fingertips scraped and bled as he hurried forward and flung himself out into space. His stomach lurched up into his mouth, then back into its proper position as his feet thudded onto the next roof. He staggered, righted himself, and repeated the process. _I can't believe he talked me into this!_

Splinters dug into the tender flesh of his hands as he hung from the Bureau's rooftop entrance and dropped down to the floor below. Panting, he entered the room. A man stood behind a desk there, an old man. His gray beard, streaked with white in patches, nearly reached his waist. A pigeon sat cooing in his hand. 

"What are you doing here, Novice?" demanded the Rafiq, looking at him with steely eyes beneath his hood.

"Shut up for a second," Desmond panted, doubled up, hands on his knees. Catching his breath, he rose. "We have a problem."

X x X

The search didn't last long. His brother was a predictable lout sometimes-get him running and he ran straight unless forced to turn or his way was blocked off. Jameel followed along the rooftops, eyes on the burly giant racing along below.

He'd found him. After all these years, he'd found him! He engaged his Hidden Blade with the ring on his pinkie and pounced for the fleeing man. What gave him away, he couldn't know. Perhaps his brother's paranoia was simply that great, or he'd somehow seen his shadow as he leaped down toward him. Whatever the case, he turned, and his mace followed. 

The Assassin couldn't dodge it; he didn't even have time to turn in midair. Instead, he tried to shield himself from the inevitable blow. The pitiable attempt was for naught. The mace smacked him out of the air, smashing his left arm, wrist, and hand in one blow. Stone met his side. Pain rocketed through his skull as if it had been hit instead of his blade arm, where the nauseating sensation of stabbing, shattered bone was all too common. The top of his bracer was crushed in. 

He managed to roll onto his feet, but there was no time to run. Kadin had already closed the gap. The air was driven from his lungs with a second swing of the mace. Multiple, horrible cracks were felt more than heard as the weapon's round, steel head drove into his ribs. They broke easily. His armor did nothing against the blow. 

Jameel rolled to a stop at the edge of the nearest dock, his broken arm dangling over the water. Each shallow breath set his chest blazing afresh. His head lolled to one side as footsteps stopped beside him. Kadin strapped the mace to his back and picked up the Assassin by the neck with one hand, holding him over the water. 

"This will be your last try, little brother." The big man raised a brow as the man's unbroken arm grasped at his wrist, a weak attempt to pry it from his throat. The glare he received left him unfazed. He squeezed until the fingers scrabbling at his gloved hand slipped away, the hateful eyes beginning to roll back in his skull. "I won't kill you outright." 

His free hand balled into a meaty fist. Blood shot from Jameel's mouth and nose as knuckles crashed into his face. The punches came down in quick succession, putting the point to his words. He wouldn't be killed outright. "No, first, I'm going to have the fun you deprived me of all these years." 

_To be killed outright is a mercy he'll make me beg for..._

**Thanks for your patience, dear readers. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible. Thank you for any and all reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the ones to come.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: I don't own AC or any of its characters. Jameel, Kadin, and Ravenwatch belong to Kronoton. The German knight belongs to Sileana. Only Lex belongs to me.

**Thank you for the review, Storm, and anyone else who gave one or helped out with the making of this chapter, including the German.**

Acre  
>1191<p>

"Drop him." 

The beating had continued, even when Jameel had gone limp in his brother's grip. Blood saturated his face from his nose, lip, a burst vessel above one eye that discolored the skin to blue and the purple-black of blood welling up from it and slipping down his brow; dragging open his eyes was nearly impossible with the swelling around them. 

He didn't so much lift his head as allow it to loll back a ways, breathing ragged and wet as he brought in air through his swollen, split lips and battered chest into his lungs. 

There he was, that little idiot, that stupid waif of his. _That damned Novice!_ It was the boy who'd spoken, spoken with more authority in his voice than his looks allowed. Blood had turned the sleeves of his tunic red, the leg of his pants almost black with the stuff. He was panting from the run, or from the pain of his gaping wounds. Jameel couldn't tell which, and he didn't expect his battered brain to figure it out either. 

"_E-emshi,_" he wheezed, tongue fat from the bite he'd given it after one of the initial punches from Kadin. "_Yallah, ahbal! Emshi..._" He choked as the hand around his throat tightened considerably, vision tunneling. 

"Drop him?" He could hear the sneer in his brother's voice, the obvious sense of triumph. "If you say so." Finally, he was released. A gasp of air flooded his lungs, but relief was short-lived. Water-wound-stinging salt water-closed over his head. Jameel flailed with his good arm, struggling to bring his head above water, but his arm and ribs weighed him down better than any anchor. He ceased moving, feeling the air seep from his lungs as he started to sink. 

Lex sprang into motion as the Assassin fell, the Templar freeing his mace and bringing it around toward him. Two strides carried him just to the edge of the weapon's arc. What happened next could only in his mind have been put down to instinct, if his mind had realized what his body was doing. 

His foot hit the deck as the man's hands brought the mace around like a baseball bat. He registered the swing, moving in slow motion as everything seemed to be at this moment. Then he jumped, arms outstretched, curling his stomach and legs up and over the weapon. The Sparrow ducked his head down as he finished the somersault, letting himself roll back up onto his feet. Another stride and he was planting his foot at the edge of the dock. 

He felt his heart jerking against his ribs as he threw himself out into the air, hung for a split second, then dove beneath the water.

Lex felt his ears pop as he pushed himself downward after the sinking man. His lungs began to burn as he reached out, catching the man's sleeve with his fingertips. Twisting around beneath his good arm, he circled his arms around the man's middle and kicked toward the surface. The boy clenched his teeth down on the insides of his cheeks, removing one arm away to hold his nose shut and avoid drawing any water into his own lungs. He swallowed as he tugged Jameel up against his side when the light grew brighter around them in the water, all but shoving him up ahead of him as his head broke into the sweet, open air. 

Dragging in a deep lungful of air, he took Jameel's good arm quickly and pulled it around his neck, his other still at his middle as he swam. _How do you drown in ocean water? My God...ocean water, salt, bigger body. Bigger body, lean back, salt in water, water floats, salt makes float more. Water floats Jameel. Simple math._

x X x

The German knight working on the docks glared out at the sea. What the hell had made him apply for this career? Oh, yes, he remembered, it was his cousin Gebrant who put this flea in his ear. _"Become a Templar, see foreign lands, go through adventures. Do something good for to save your soul." Whenever I see that bastard again I will kill him with these two hands of mine and a wooden spoon,_ the docks man, Gilbert, vowed. 

He'd regretted coming here since the day they'd arrived; this land with the stinging hot sun simply could not find a place in his heart of hearts. But that wasn't the worst of it. The Teutonic Grandmaster, Sibrand, was the greatest plague of all, greater even than those set upon them by the carcasses the Saracens had hurled in the siege. Calling him a pestering, paranoid madman was too friendly a description. His imagination had only ramped up its hysteria with the recent death of some French Hospitalier medic. 

_But what does it matter to me who dies and by what means?_ For two weeks, Gilbert had to stand here as a guard with nothing more to do than scare away the poor women that came begging from time to time. He scared them all right-a little coin was all it took and they ran off like there were hell-bats on their heels. He gave the sea another somber glare. "_Scheiss Meer, scheiss Moeven..._" 

Then he spotted something, something white just edging into the periphery of his vision. He turned his gaze toward it and was rewarded with a monotony-breaking dose of confusion. "_Gelehrte?_" Sure enough, plain as the boards beneath his feet, two scholars were in the water. One was obviously an apprentice from his fresh face, the other a teacher held up by the boy's thin arms. The man sighed. No doubt they'd run afoul of someone higher up on the chain of command, if not the leader of the Knights Teutonic himself, to be struggling and wounded in the water.

"_Junge._" He knelt, reaching out a hand toward the scholars. A cold, trembling hand grasped onto his own before the knight hauled the pair out. Several breaths later, the boy was whispering "_Danke, danke_" feverishly and pressing on his companion's belly. Drawing back his fist, he punched down heavily. The man shuddered violently and gagged, spewing water onto the docks. 

"_Dankeschoen,_" the boy rasped again, whether to himself or some higher power, the knight wasn't certain. He smiled, the expression hidden by the scruff that bristled around his lips and jaw at being addressed in his mother tongue in a friendly manner for once. 

"_Ja, ja, verschwindet jetzt,_" he said gruffly into his beard, keeping a lookout for the lad in case whoever roughed the sages up came back to finish their fun. Hefting the taller one up onto his shoulders, the little fellow scurried on down the docks, through the gates, and was gone.

x X x

Desmond ran ahead of Jabal, Acre's Rafiq, as he spotted the two moving up the street. 

"What took you so long?" he asked, then stared as he saw the blood coating the other Assassins. He took the Owl from the boy, carrying him on his back up to the roof entrance as Jabal followed the Sparrow up the ladder to the roof. He shut the door and climbed down, watching Lex as he slumped down to the floor. 

"Do you know anything about medicine?" asked Jabal. 

"Just cuts and scrapes," the barkeep murmured, touching his own bound wounds. 

"Then stay out of the way." He set to work. Desmond sighed as he sat down and watched. Jameel was still out cold. With his robes removed to set his ribs and arm, he saw that Kadin had dented him in with almost no effort. _No wonder Jameel was freaking out about Lex following him._

He turned his gaze to the other Novice, who sat on the rug the two men had set Jameel on. Desmond had no clue why a rug and some pillows were thought to be a good bed, but he didn't question it either. The Rafiq was saying something to the kid, who nodded and bared his wounds for inspection. His leg had started to bleed again once he got out of the water, as were his arms and the jagged cuts on his back and shoulder.

The old man told Desmond to go into the other room as he went to his desk and grabbed something. Moments later, a muffled scream reached the man's ears. Returning to the room, he found Lex lying pale and quiet beneath the Rafiq's hands as his wounds were double checked for glass shards and bound. 

Desmond linked his fingers and set his chin on them. _You two better not die._ He looked at Jameel. _I'm not explaining your death to anybody._ He looked at Lex. _And don't you dare make me explain your death to that guy next to you!_

The Novice took a seat in the main room of the Bureau with Jabal, listening absently to the fountain at the entrance. It reminded him of how much he needed a bathroom. _God, I need a drink, too._

"Explain to me what happened," said the old man suddenly. 

"To the best of my knowledge, a Master Assassin met a wrecking ball," replied the barkeep, annoyed at being jarred from thoughts of copious amounts of alcohol. "Can you explain to me when these two will wake up?" 

"The Master will awaken when he's ready." He stood and went to Jameel's side, lifting the Hidden Blade and its bracer. "This was nearly broken. One more blow and the blade would have been in pieces. Do you not think that this also transfers to the one who wears this weapon as an extension of his arm?" He set it down again and moved back to his seat. 

Lex settled himself down on Jameel's good side as the man who looked like a Middle Eastern Gandalf left the little space where the bed-rug was. While Desmond continued recounting what events he could for the Rafiq, the boy reached over and took hold of his friend's hand gently. He shut his eyes and opened them again in a slow blink, the pain of sealing off his cuts still blazing in his skin, and waited. 

_Waiting... God, waiting sucks._

The shadows lengthened as noon came and went. The Novices ate a little food, enough to take the edge off the aches in their stomachs, and returned to the places they'd been at for the past several hours. 

A nudge woke Jameel, possibly from Jabal tightening the knot on his freshly changed bandages. He felt like a cart of horses had fallen on top of him, broken open, and that they all were stomping on him simultaneously. _Allah, give me the will to stop being so stubborn,_ he thought. _I know this is my nature, but I need to ease off on it. It might get me killed. Like it did today...nearly got me killed._

What came from his mouth was another piece of evidence to himself that his mind need to be taken off of stubborn revenge for a while: "Damn, he'll probably have moved again by now..."

Lex blinked as he felt the hand move under his, the words a muttered blur of noise as he snapped himself out of the trance into which he'd fallen. 

"Hm? Oh, hey, you're awake. Welcome back to the world of the living." He gave a slim smile, which morphed into a grimace as he moved onto his belly. His stomach threatened to turn itself over and spew its meager contents out of his mouth. _Head rush._ He sighed and pushed himself up onto his elbows, head pounding. 

Jameel pushed him back down gently, careful of the bandages running along his skin. 

"Relax. Go to sleep. This isn't the first time this has happened." Lex gave him a disbelieving look, then did as told. Jameel grunted softly as the Novice settled against his side, an arm across his middle. The Assassin had no idea who woke him, fortunately for Jabal, but he was glad for the nudge. This mess he'd made of himself would take a while to heal, longer than getting pierced by an arrow or cut by a dagger. He was in a safe place, so he could let his guard down and speed up the process. 

Though the Novice latched onto him did cause him slight discomfort. Jameel chuckled, staring at the ceiling as he absently listened to Desmond and Jabal talk in the other room. What they said didn't matter. The voices were a pleasant white noise, a background music as he drifted once more to be lost in thought, watching the shadows from the latticed entrance overhead. 

He sighed as the boy squirmed against him, shooting him a look. _Clingy kid, aren't you?_ If Lex decided to hug his ribs, he'd shove him, have him use one of the actual pillows. _Thinking I'm something to hug while sleeping. I'm not something to hug._ Jameel ignored that last bit of his musings, settling his arm under the Sparrow's head and around his shoulders, letting himself enjoy the company. 

He blinked as he felt Lex's arm drop off of him. After what had felt like hours of intermittent wriggling, finally, the kid was deep asleep. Jameel shifted his arm, bringing the Novice closer as he got the blood flowing again, and went back to sleep.

X x X

A man made his way across the rooftops of Acre, a white flash that disappeared into shadows only to blaze to life again once he made his way out of the shelter of broken pieces of wall. Guards scampered across the roofs and along the ground, church bells pealing out an alarm. Catching hold of the lattice-work roof, he lowered himself into the Bureau with a dull thump.

The wounded sleepers caught his eye first. The Assassin gazed at them inquisitively, but let them be and stepped into the building's man area. 

Jabal turned his head toward the man and nodded, while a Novice bolted up from the small seat he'd been occupying. 

Desmond Miles, hood down, stared into a reflection of his own face shaded partly by the Assassins' trademarked beaked hood. A hand reached up, sweeping back the obstruction and revealing the man in full, something rarely, if ever, done. 

Altair ibn La'Ahad took in his eight-times-great-grandson and raised his brows, lips pursed, as if to say, _"You're all there is?"_ The bartender assumed that was the closest to a holy-shit expression he was going to get at this time. 

"Jabal," said the currently-demoted Syrian Master Assassin, eyes never leaving the lookalike. "Jameel is injured, there are two..."-he gestured toward the other man, at a loss-"...Novices in the Bureau, and the city is in a panic. I don't believe that last part is totally caused by the death of William of Montferrat." He set a bloodied feather down on the man's desk. "Tell me what has happened."

**Emshi = Go/leave/get out of here**

**Ahbal = Idiot**

**Scheiss Meer, scheiss Moeven = Damned sea, damned sea gulls**

**Gelehrte = Scholars**

**Junge = Boy**

**Danke/Dankeschoen = Thank you/Thank you so much**

**Ja, ja, verschwindet jetzt = Yes, yes, get yourselves gone now.**

**Thanks for the wait, my readers. ^^ I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the others. As with the previous chapters, if I flub something up with the languages, feel free to correct me—mainly with the Arabic; I already checked the German with a friend and fellow reader. :3 Next chapter will be up as soon as possible. Also, if anyone wants to find out more about Gilbert, check out Sileana's profile. The story will be up sometime in the future.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **AC's characters belong to them. Kronoton has sole possession of Jameel, Kadin, and the Ravenwatch. Lex is mine.

Acre  
>1191<p>

Jameel awoke again to the sound of tolling bells, although this time it wasn't as abruptly as when he'd been nudged. _Somebody's causing quite a stir._ He flicked his eyes toward Jabal, who stood behind his desk, leaning almost completely over it, speaking with Desmond and... _So, Altair decided to show. Good timing._

The old man had been recounting the events inside the Bureau up until the point of Desmond bursting in when Altair interrupted. 

"They were here because?" he asked. Jameel decided to answer him. 

"They were with me." Altair looked over at the other man. Hopefully, the Eagle was smart enough to know just precisely what happened to him by looks alone. He'd probably seen enough mace wounds to know them by now. 

"It appears one of them still is." He eyed the Novice curled up at the Owl's side and frowned. He couldn't have been older than twelve if looks were to be believed, perhaps fourteen at a stretch. The Master Assassin studied the two critically. "Ah, he comes after his mother. Was she the one from Damas? No, he's too pale... Of course, she's the Alexandrian!" 

"Son of Umar, your envy is showing." Jameel sneered. "Your bloodline must not go as far as this Novice claims, seeing as he looks to come squarely from your loins onto the floor a fully formed man-child." 

"I resent that man-child bit." The comment did bring the Son of None's attention back to the lookalike and away from him, thankfully. Altair folded his arms as he gazed at Desmond. 

"Who are you?" 

"Desmond Miles. You're my ancestor." The bartender rolled his eyes. "And for the record, I have parents." Altair looked at him dubiously. "Look, I can explain, but it's going to sound like a long, long, cheap sci-fi movie, and my being here's mostly that kid's fault in my opinion." 

"Sci-fi movie?" 

Des ignored the question and settled in to again tell the story of why he was here. As he spoke, the other man's eyes widened, narrowed, and repeated the process. When he finished, he sighed, "You don't believe me, right?"

"Not a word of it, but if you were part of some sort of Templar plot, you would have been dead long ago." Altair looked at the man who claimed to be his descendant, his mind processing the story. "You've done well enough today for a Novice. I see no harm in keeping you around for as long as you take to find the fastest way back to wherever it is you said you come from." 

"What sort of Templar plot, Altair?" Jabal wondered, stroking one of his birds. 

"The Templars could have hired this man to impersonate me." Jameel grinned to himself at the notion of someone running around pretending to be Altair. It was absurd. _Who would want to be this man? His life has gone from terrible to horrendous in a mere month's time!_

Altair, Abbas, and he had been brothers of circumstance. Both the other boys had lost their mothers early on, and a scant two years after his own parents' deaths at his brother's hands, the Saracens had killed Altair's father, Umar, in exchange for the life of Abbas' father. The same man whose life had been saved had run off in the night, never to be seen again. Or so the story went. 

As they grew older, they grew apart. Jameel had his nearly all-consuming vendetta to nourish and set out fulfill it as soon as his Journeyman's rank would allow. What split Altair and Abbas was unknown to him-one said one thing, the other something else, and both stuck to their versions adamantly, so he'd given up the subject for lost. 

To see Altair receive the traitor's death for the events of Solomon's Temple and the resulting Templar attack on their home, even if it had been only a ploy, was something that saddened him, though, despite the distance that had grown up between them. _Perhaps not the attacking of our home. I would have done him in myself for that alone had Al Mualim not beaten me to it._

He hadn't seen the Eagle since he'd risen from the dead, sent out on missions as he was. Now to hear him spouting this babble... It was too much. He had to say something. 

"Templars..." He paused, pain raking his chest. "Templars can't copy faces. They can only hide them." 

"True." Altair smirked. "Besides, if they could copy faces, why would they let de Sable keep his around?" Jameel started laughing at Altair's jab at the bald Templar, but was cut short by his protesting ribs. 

Desmond set his arms behind his head, looking at the two Masters. 

"So, what should we do about your mace-swinging psychopath, Jameel?"

When the pain passed, he answered, "We isolate him from those mercenaries of his. The problem is they cling to him like flies on a corpse. Try to chase them away and they'll come right back. Try to kill them and more will take their place." His brow furrowed in thought, fingers absently clenching on the boy's shoulder as he moved for the first time in hours. "There has to be a way to chase them off without Kadin noticing." 

"Smoke 'em out 'n' shoot 'em in the head." The Sparrow's comment in English made Desmond jump. Altair leaned back and looked at the boy quizzically. Maybe he was wrong about the Alexandrian. Christian pilgrims were a viable option, too. 

Lex sat up on his elbows, saw Altair, looked at Desmond, and cocked his head so far to the left it almost touched his shoulder. Recovering his train of thought from the derailment it had had on seeing the New Yorker's doppelganger, he mimed sighting down a rifle barrel and pulling the trigger. 

"Yeah, dumbass, if we were still in our own time. They don't exactly have guns here," Desmond said, returning to Arabic. Jameel stared at Desmond like he'd grown an extra limb right then and there. _We don't have what here?_

"Yeah. But they have a smithy and the Chinese traders." A devilish smirk was crawling up the boy's face, straight from the bowels of hell. Or so Desmond thought. "And what do the Chinese have?" 

"You can't make a gun." 

"A gun?" Altair broke in. "What is a gun?" Desmond waved his hand at him, then leaned forward to look at Lex. 

"You cannot make a gun," he repeated. The Eagle looked at the wounded man for some answers. He shrugged, just as stumped, and continued listening to them argue. 

"My friend's a blacksmith. My dad-" Lex broke off. _My dad..._ He hadn't thought about his father-foster-father? Adoptive father?-since leaving that night and heading for the nearest train tracks out of town. "He used to make old Colts and rifles and ammo for collectors and crap." Desmond gave him an odd look. "What? Somebody has to do that. And they don't come cheap either." 

"Your friend was a blacksmith?" 

"Traditional family trade turned enthusiastic hobby." 

"And your dad made old guns for a profit." 

"Uh-huh."

"And you know just how to make one because...?" 

"I like to find out how thinks work, okay? Consider that my little hobby." Lex stood and wobbled. He nodded to Desmond, started to give him a thumbs up, and then stopped as he remembered that it wasn't polite. At least, not here. That had been one of his first lessons from Malik after he'd asked the man what it meant, as leaving several angry people in his wake had left the boy more than a little confused. He curled his thumb down against his palm and waved toward the rooftop door. "I'll grab the materials if you grab the place to get working." 

"While all this banter is very fascinating," Altair ground out through clenched teeth, "we do not understand a word you're saying. What is a gun?" 

"To rip off a show called Burn Notice, which you two will never need to hear about again: a gun is just a muzzle with a firing pin." Again, the English jarred the men. The boy dropped into his native tongue when he didn't know how to say something in theirs. He would be speaking well enough, if stilted and slow as a child first learning to read aloud, and then plop a word or an entire statement down in the middle, breaking the flow. Jameel made a mental note to help remedy that, and another immediately after to tell Malik that he'd been right about that communication problem. Lex climbed up through the door and disappeared. Desmond looked at Altair. 

"Do you know where a smithy is?" The man sighed and gave his lookalike directions. When the barkeep had disappeared as well, the Son of None took a seat beside his comrade. 

"Well, do you suppose whatever they have planned will work?" 

"Kadin's probably moved to another city by now." Jameel shifted himself to a more comfortable position, his hand settling on the bracer by his side. He felt vulnerable without the comfortable leather and constant weight of his first and foremost weapon on his arm, but he didn't have to go far to reach it. Slipping the ring over his right pinkie, he moved it. The blade popped up beautifully, despite having an odd bend in the blade. _Good, the mechanism still works. Saves me some coin, that's for certain, if this venture of theirs doesn't._

The taller man's eyes flicked to Altair. "But if I know him, he'll be secure in his supposed victory, if not with his hired men. Whatever these boys have planned, it better be effective."

X x X

Getting back to the Bureau proved no easier than going outside. _No, easy would have been anything else but this,_ Desmond thought. _Easy would have been us not having to sneak back and forth. In this case, easy was getting out here!_

Getting out of the Bureau to the market was breaking out of the prison camp. Normal guards to the left of them, to the right of them, and on the rooftops. Accompanying them were patrols of Ravenwatch archers. The archers not only had their standard serrated arrows and the glass variety, they also had arrows with little firework like rockets strapped to them. The fuses weren't lit, but the younger Eagle assumed that could be done at a second's notice. The arrows were held loosely against the bowstrings as the blackbirds moved about the streets and roofs, occasionally peeping into hay carts and roof gardens and sometimes over vendors' stalls to check behind the counters. 

As the man watched, he tapped the boy's arm and pointed. A cluster of scholars was moving along, mumbling something or other among themselves and steering clear of the feathered nightmares. When they drew nearer, the Novices slipped into the center of their formation. One of the scholars glanced toward the two hooded figures and frowned. Their eyes widened, both faces giving him an imploring look. After a tense second, he returned to his muttering with an almost imperceptible nod. 

As they threaded through the streets, they saw the true extent of the archers' patrols: they extended almost the entire length of the city from the docks to the entrance. Even the back alleys had some bird or two working them. 

They reached the middle district after what felt like years. A few stalls lined the streets where artisans and craftsmen hawked their services and wares. The bartender tapped the men beside him on the arms, who in turn alerted the man ahead of them. 

"_Shukran,_" he whispered, then nudged Lex forward. The boy murmured his request. The carpenter gave him a scowl and held out his hand. Slapping his palm to his face, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. The wood was handed over and slipped inside his robes as the man bit the shiny piece of metal. They moved on. 

Lex drifted into the smithy as Desmond continued a circuit of the block, if it could be called a block, with the scholars. He peeled away from the men with another low word of thanks and disappeared inside the building. 

Getting out came later, the church bells ringing out at midafternoon, but this time signaling None, the Ninth Hour. He knew what this was because he asked the smith. The tall American almost missed hearing the adhan. At least that didn't make him jump like he was going to be attacked at any moment. 

If getting out of the Bureau was breaking out of the prison camp, this was surely breaking into one. It was stupid and uncomfortable. _I hate this plan,_ Desmond grumbled to himself as he walked ramrod straight back to the nearest cluster of scholars. They weren't the same men as before-these were older, most with full beards that tended toward gray on two of the men-but they gave them shelter just as well.

Hiding weapons was never the most comfortable thing in the world, but having a firearm buried beneath his clothes was too insane. Lex was no better. He had those plus the daggers tucked into his boots. To make matters worse, the Crows were staring at them now through their bone white masks. Each time, it felt like one of them was going to come over and ask to see some identification from them. One of them moved toward him from the group it had been patrolling with. Desmond felt his heart skip a beat, but the danger passed them by, intent on inspecting some large pots in a cart that was being drawn behind them. 

Separating from the men, the Assassins scurried up the ladder and into the Bureau. 

The two Masters looked at them as Lex wiped the grime from his face with his sleeve. 

"Got 'em done," he breathed as the Americans opened their robes and removed the weapons. Desmond set the rifle against the wall and popped his back as Lex set two pistols down on the floor and removed the daggers from his boots. The two began closing their robes again, Lex sheathing the daggers in his belt. 

"You're either a genius or completely insane." 

"Yeah, sure, Dessy," Lex said absently, waiting for a response from the others. 

Jameel stared at the guns like he had with the iPod. _Those odd-looking things can kill people? The best they look like they can do is dump water from a fountain._ He glanced at Altair. The other man's puzzled expression spoke for him. 

The weapons looked like the Frankenstein love children of the unholy union of wood and metal. At least, the pistols did, with wooden grips wrapped in leather, forming the base of the gun, everything else metal. 

Finally, Jameel spoke: "Which one's the gun?" 

"All of them are." Lex pointed to the gun Desmond had set to one side. "That's a rifle. Well, technically they're all rifles. I did some rifling along the inside of these babies here"-he held up one of the handguns and moved his finger along the barrel-"to help with the accuracy and all that, but that there's your standard, every day rifle." 

Taking a small pouch from his belt, he pulled out one of the bullets from it. These had taken the most time to make. He'd basically winged his way through it. Desmond fiddled with the pouches on his person, a bag of bullets and a bag of gunpowder. 

The gunpowder he'd nicked from one of the nearby stalls as they'd gone along. The merchant wouldn't miss his nice, fat bag, would he? After all, he'd been too busy talking with a pretty girl to notice someone else ahead of them stealing a basket from him.

The boy loaded the gun and looked at the men. "Well, ready to see what one of these bad boys can do?" Altair gave him a just-get-on-with-it look. Jameel already looked like he wanted to fold his arms. Taking one of the pillows from the floor, Desmond went into the large Bureau room and came back with a pomegranate. 

"Okay, wait, what is that?" 

"You've never seen a pomegranate before?" 

"No. Well, yeah, at the store, but I didn't know what they were." 

"It's a fruit, you moron! You eat the seeds inside. Now shoot the damn thing. Jabal wants his lunch back. You might as well split it open for him." Lex pressed the pillow to the one end of the gun, took careful aim, and fired. 

The fruit exploded, splattering Desmond and the wall and floor with seeds and the red and white shell of the fruit. Jameel, along with Altair, had flinched as the debris went flying. Had that been someone's head, it would have showered the spot with gore. _Maybe this is what we've been needing after all._ Jameel relaxed, willing his heart to slow back down. He picked up one of the stray pieces of shell and turned it between his thumb and forefinger. _On another note, who's going to clean up that mess?_

"Impressive," was all the Red Owl could really think to say. Altair was watching the Novices with a new found wariness. The tension was shattered when Lex went over to the destroyed fruit, scooped up some seeds that had somehow remained fixed in the shell, and popped them in his mouth. Desmond made a noise of disgust. 

"What the hell, man!" 

"They're good." Lex continued popping seeds in his mouth. "Really good. I gotta get me one of these when we get home. Masyaf, I mean. When we get back to Masyaf." 

The silence was palpable. Desmond was staring at him with something caught between sadness and anger. He swatted the piece from the boy's hands. 

"You'll get sick if you do that. Get a fresh one next time." 

"I agree with you, Jameel," said Altair, his voice finally returned to him. "It is impressive. Concealable as well."

"Who's going to take them, though? This city's more heavily guarded than it's ever been. You won't be able to walk three feet without running into Ravenwatch, or a guard, or even a Templar. Escaping through the main gates would be more difficult than swimming around the walls." Jameel stared at the ceiling. There wasn't much he could do while wounded as he was, except sit, and that was infuriating when there was work to be done. Could the Novices do it alone? 

_One Novice,_ he corrected himself. Even though he'd managed to go out and make the guns, Lex was still hurt, too. He watched the boy in the corner of his eye, balanced on his uninjured leg. That would mean Altair would have to go in his or the Sparrow's stead. _Altair will have to go._ His mind then conjured up the image of the other Assassin shooting himself in the foot. He wanted to laugh, but his ribs wouldn't allow it, so he settled for a smirk. _He'll have to learn to use one of those things, too._

"I could go," Lex volunteered, snapping Jameel out of his daydream. The others stared at him. "What?" 

"You're injured, dumbass." That was from Desmond. 

"They're just flesh wounds. I can still go. If I can go out there and make some guns, I think I can pretty well fight those things. Wouldn't you say? Huh?" 

"I say you're an idiot!" 

"Who traipsed around outside making the guns? Besides, some able bodied person has to stay here, considering it'd just be Jameel and Gandalf over there." Jabal looked at the boy from the corner of his eye, making a low noise of annoyance. Jameel narrowed his eyes at him. Lex picked up one of the guns, the two time travelers having a heated glaring match. Desmond reached around for the gun. The boy turned away, keeping his back to the man. The scuffle lasted a few seconds longer until Desmond chicken winged Lex's arm and confiscated the weapon. He passed it off to Altair, who held it awkward between thumb and forefinger as Lex picked up the other gun. 

"Look, Altair'll probably end up shooting himself in the head if he goes alone-" 

"-Excuse me?" the elder Eagle hissed. 

"-and I'm going. So where're we headed?" Desmond took in a breath, held it, and let it go. When he spoke again, it was in a low voice, the kind he used on the rowdier customers. 

"Kid, I'm only going to say this once. No."

"Desmond is right," Jameel added, now able to get a few words in edgewise. "He and Altair are the only ones left uninjured, so they'll go. Then again, Altair might injure himself with these...err..." He thought back to the word Desmond had used. "Guns." The Sparrow gave him a petulant little glare. _Fine. If you behave like a child, I will treat you like a child._ His explanation was done with utmost care, each word said in the same way as a man telling a child why he shouldn't stick his hand in a bee's nest. "Lex, you've been shot. Three times. Imagine if they laced the arrows with poison the next time. You wouldn't be able to make it back to the Bureau without collapsing dead in the street first. I'm sure they have their bomb arrows out by now..." He sighed as the boy looked away. "Lex, you're remaining here. Sit, before you act on that little cannon fodder offer of yours and get pinned by fifty arrows. 

"You'll have to search for my brother. I don't know where he went after he dropped me from the docks." 

"It shouldn't be too hard to find him." Desmond slipped the rifle onto his back after figuring how to slip it under his belt and the strap that went diagonally across back to hold his chest armor in place. "Man as big as that stands out in the crowd." 

"If your idea's going to work, Desmond, I suggest putting it to use before we have to start back at the beginning." 

"By that he means we should get moving," translated Altair, shoving his descendant up the wall and out into the dimming evening light. 

Silence hung between the two Assassins left in the Bureau, the Rafiq bustling about his own work, altogether ignoring them now that they were up and about. The Red Owl kept his eyes on the roof and the changing light as the Sparrow watched the shadows growing longer and darker along the walls. 

"You're not my dad," Lex murmured to a particular patch of shadows in the corner. 

"I'm not your father," Jameel agreed, blue eyes staring at blue sky, "and I would never care to be referred to as such." 

"I'm not useless, even if I am hurt." 

"Don't put words in my mouth. I never said that you were." 

"Dessy-" 

"Desmond would have been driven to distraction by you and you by him. At least you're out of each other's way for the time being." Lex shut his eyes, quiet descending on them once again.

Then, "I'm sorry for getting you caught." Jameel looked over at him, the boy's eyes turned back to him. How Altair could have thought them related after looking him full in the face was beyond the Master Assassin. Even Malik had pointed out one of the most striking differences between them. Lex's eyes were brown, the same unremarkable, dark shade as almost everyone he'd met in life. 

"Why?" 

"Huh?" 

"Why do you think you got me caught?" Lex lowered his head, fingers twisting the fabric of his robes. "Stop that. Look at me." He reached over, lifting the boy's chin when he still kept his eyes down. "Do not blame yourself for this, Sparrow. It's not going to help me heal any faster if you do. It's pointless." He moved his hand away and laid down on his side. "Besides, Kadin would have found me anyway. He knows his little brother all too well." 

The last sentence dripped with contempt. No, not just contempt. Hatred. _He really does hate his older brother. Definitely wants him dead, from the sound of it._ Lex thought back to the last time they'd spoken of Jameel's brother in Masyaf. Then he'd sounded as if he blamed himself for Kadin joining the Templars. Now... _Now it's like he doesn't even acknowledge Kadin's his flesh and blood anymore._ Lex looked at the man, who met his eyes but looked through him at something else. 

"What happened with you guys? You and him?" Lex wondered. Jameel focused on him. "Were you always out for each other's necks?" 

"Why do you want to know? Is it your business to dig into my past? Is this what friends do?" Jameel's voice was venomously low. 

The boy flinched, hurt, but countered sharply with, "Yeah, actually, it is what friends do. Friends worry about each other." His face heated so that even under the tan he'd gotten, his cheeks shone a dusty pink. "And I'd worry about you regardless, Jameel, even if you didn't consider me a friend." 

The Red Owl took a second look at him as he moved himself up to a cross-legged sit. Lex mimicked the position. He lifted his hand, stopped, then rested it on Lex's shoulder. 

"I will tell you of what happened, but my needs won't become yours. I wouldn't ask you to share my burden and I'm not doing so now in telling you what was taken from me that night." 

"It's my fervent hope that you don't ask it of me either," called the Rafiq.

"Shut up and go back to your birds, old man!" said the two in unison. Jameel sucked in a breath through his teeth and let it out again before looking at Lex once more and beginning his tale.

X x X

The archers were everywhere. They coated the city in moving shadows. The Eagles pressed themselves into the shadows, buried themselves in whatever hiding place was available. Altair covered Desmond's mouth quickly as they moved toward the rich district, three of the Crows running by. One of them actually flapped his arms and cawed. 

When these had gone, they scurried to the next hiding spot, and the next after, block by block. Desmond glanced toward their feet as he heard a hissing noise. No snake to be found. The sound was getting closer. It was followed by a shrill noise. 

_CRAP!_ The man shoved his ancestor forward, taking to his heels. The ground exploded, raining dirt and stone around them. The shrill whistle of the bomb arrow's flight alerted more of the Ravenwatch archers. 

Bombs exploded around them, taking out chunks of wall. More archers were alerted to their flight as the pair went. Stinging glass joined in the detritus that peppered them, along with the standard black bolts. The men split up, Desmond taking to the rooftops and Altair racing along below him on the ground. 

The American skidded and turned, panicking in the chaos around him. He dropped from the roof, rolled, and— 

"Oh, shit!" 

The mace pounded into the dust where his head had been seconds before. Kadin lifted the weapon again, baring his teeth in what was either a grin or something nearing a snarl. Desmond put up his fists. The giant brought the weapon around. The barkeep ducked, moving to one side. The mace followed after him. He dove behind the man, kicking at his back. 

Desmond threw himself into a barrel roll, arms up over his head, as the steel head came down for him once again. A loud cracking noise split the night, an explosion like yet unlike those firecrackers the Watch had used before. Kadin flinched back and took off as Altair jumped down and helped him up. "That only took you long enough, gramps!" 

"Show me how to use this thing properly next time!" said Altair as they took up the chase again. It was made easier by the trail of blood spreading after Kadin. The shot had clipped the Templar's head. Desmond once more hurried to the top of the nearest building. The time traveler unslung the gun from its place in his belt, shouldering the rifle and taking aim.

Kadin had made good time, a cluster of his archers surrounding him as he pelted toward one of the city's side entrances. Getting the man's neck in his sights, he fired, then sent off another round toward the center of his back. The first bullet went low, catching one of the bodyguards full in the back of his head. The body dropped to the ground. Hearing the thud, Kadin jumped upward and out, the second bullet imbedding itself his right calf as he passed through the gates. 

"Damn it!" The Novice squinted into the growing twilight, shielding his eyes from the last, sinking rays of the sun. A cluster of some three or four caravans sped off into the distance. The man gulped as he heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn, the hiss of a lit fuse shrinking. 

Des pressed his foot onto the edge of the roof and threw himself out into the air as the arrow was released. He dropped into the abandoned cart at the bottom of the building as the section above him exploded. 

Altair staggered as a large chunk of roof and wall almost crashed down on the backs of his legs. Grasping Desmond's arm, he hauled the other man out and made a straight shot toward the Bureau.

X x X

Lex looked up as he heard footfalls on the roof and opened the door. Altair dropped in with Desmond slung over his shoulder like a sack of hammers. He had a nice gash on his head, but he was breathing. The boy helped the other time traveler to Jabal's desk. The old man bound his head wound tightly, keeping an eye on the Master Assassins in the other room. 

He rushed forward as a black arrow zipped through the roof door, shutting it. Lex looked around the doorway. Jameel leaned away from the arrow that had imbedding itself into a pillow beside his head. Moving to a sit, the man took the arrow and untied a scroll of parchment from it. 

Jameel opened it and flung it away almost immediately as if it was some poisonous snake. The parchment unrolled on the floor to reveal a well-detailed sketch of crow in profile. The man scrambled backward until his back met the wall, curling up despite his shrieking ribs. His eyes were wide, the whites visible even in the shadows of his hood. 

"Not again," the Owl muttered, each time growing louder. "Not again. Not again. Not again! Please, God, not again!" 

Altair stooped and picked up the parchment, looking at the sketch. 

"Jameel? What is this?"

The Red Owl responded by trying to pull the hood down over his face, hiding it completely in the shadows. He squeezed his eyes shut. Jameel—fearless, strong Jameel—was in a state of sheer terror, Lex realized. The realization finally brought home just what kind of situation they all were in with a physical chill of fear. 

"Their signature. It's death. The one-eyed crow. We're on their hit lists. We've been marked for death, Altair! All of us!" This last was almost screamed. It morphed into a nerve-rattling laugh. "They no longer need permission from their employer to hunt us like animals! We stuck him, so they'll strike back." Though he was sure the mercenaries would hunt him for free, Ravenwatch enjoyed their greatest source of income from Kadin. They would now protect that income by hunting down the very thing that hunted their employer. "They may even get a bonus for each head they collect." 

Altair went over and pulled the man up to his feet by the front of his robes. 

"Calm down." He gave Jameel a shake. "Calm down. It's not as if we haven't been on many a man's hit list before. We're Assassins, Jameel. If they come for you, or any of us, we will kill them. Understand?" 

Jameel looked at his fellow Master, surprised. _Friends._ His eyes turned to the others gathered at the threshold to Jabal's room. _I have friends._ Altair released him. The group looked up at the sounds of footsteps overhead. _Footsteps?_

"They're on the roof. Move." The Owl swallowed visibly, stepping into the shelter of the stone roofed room with Altair. If they made for the main entrance now, there was no telling how many arrows would pin them to the floor. _We need to get out of this city. We need to get out of this city_ now_._

**Again, thanks to all readers who also review, and I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. More of Dessy and Lex's action packed adventure with Jameel and Alty will be on the way soon.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Assassin's Creed owns all its characters. Jameel, Kadin, and Ravewatch are still Krono's. Lex is mine.

**Thanks for the reviews from Storm, Nessa, Rosa, and Aaron. Hope you guys like this next chapter.**

Acre  
>1191<p>

The Assassins moved further back into the shadows, away from the growing checkerboard of moonlight and shadow made by the rest of the rooftop. 

"Use the back entrance," said Jabal suddenly, voice barely above a creaking whisper. The men looked toward where his voice had come from beside them. "What? You thought that was the only entrance?" 

"We split up." Altair took hold of Desmond's arm. "Less chance of them picking us off if we're not clustered together." 

"Have you been dipping a little too heavy into the hashish today, old man?" Desmond snapped. "Jameel's broken up behind us. What's he gonna do, be left here to be turned into bacon strips for these jokers?" 

"I'll take care of him." They looked down toward Lex. The boy shoved at them as Jabal tugged the two Eagles' arms. "Go. If it's gonna be a turkey shoot, I'll be the fatter bird." The Rafiq opened the door, lighting a small oil lamp as he did and hanging it on the wall to mark the position of the door. With that, the trio fled. 

The boy turned back to Jameel. He had the long, curved dagger that he wore on the back of his belt unsheathed, but he didn't look anywhere near fighting fit. The Hidden Blade bracer hung from his belt as well. 

"Gimme that." Lex pointed to the weapon. 

"What?" 

"Gimme that." He pointed again, only to shake his head at the man's lack of response and take it himself. He slipped the bracer on over his glove and tightened the straps until it was snug on his forearm. "How do I work this thing?" Jameel was looking at him like he'd walked into one of the churches, taken the Eucharist, and said, "Mmm, year 1046, that's some good Jesus!" 

"There's a ring on the pinkie that—" He cut himself off. "No, you're not wearing my Hidden Blade! You'll just end up maiming yourself." The man jumped when the blade popped up and no blood curdling screams ensued. 

"Mmmf! Mm!" The blade disappeared, Lex flapping his hand in the air. He popped his cut ring finger into his mouth, sucking at the razor line that had been scored into his skin from the first joint to his fingertip. "Man alive, that stings."

Jameel covered his mouth quickly, shutting him up. There wasn't any more movement. No footsteps. The silence was unnerving, deadlier than a coiled cobra. Pulling the Novice back to the door, he turned him around so they were face to face. 

"Go." 

"Jameel," Lex began. 

"No. You're going to head in whatever direction you pick once you're out that door. I'll find my own way out." He opened his mouth to speak further, but was silenced by Lex lifting his gun. 

"Jameel," he said, pulling back the hammer, "shut the hell up. You couldn't fight your way out of a wet, torn bag looking like you do now." He set his hand on the door's handle. "Both of us are walking out of here, or neither of us is." Lex swallowed around the growing lump in his throat and licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. "Ready?" Jameel pressed his hand to the door. 

"Ready." He glanced at the boy. "On three—" The wooden roof door exploded. 

"Three!" Lex shoved him through the door and out into the alleyway behind the building, running after him for all he was worth as the three different arrows of the watch came raining down at them. He ducked, throwing up his arms to shield his head as a bomb took out the wall just above it, staggering. 

Jameel flinched as a glass arrow shattered somewhere to his right; turning down another street and hopping away from the black arrow that almost pierced his foot. Behind him, the boy turned as one of the archers was pinned in the corner of his eye and fired. A strangled scream and a thud were his rewards as he pelted after Jameel. 

He panted as he came into the small space that lead to the entrance. The guards of Acre had surrounded the man, ten in all. He was on a knee, his dagger black with blood in the light provided by the moon and stars. Two of the men lay dead, throats still pumping out blood. A third was trying to get a throwing knife out of his chest, doubled up on the ground. 

One of the guards stepped forward, raising his sword. Lex took off, feeling the blade slice his finger again as it extended with a soft click. To his ears, it almost sounded like a sword scraping free of its sheath in slow motion, the way it did in animes. But maybe that was the adrenaline hearing things. He didn't know. His brain had shut off the second he'd started what felt like the longest run of his life. 

And then he was coming down from the air, from an insane jump—when in God's name had he done that?—slamming the blade diagonally into the man's neck. He tore it free, the bloodied metal disappearing as he drew his daggers and cut an advancing man's throat. Blood sprayed onto his face. What had he hit in there? Jugular or carotid?

Catching movement to his side, he spun, turning the blade so he held the tip between his fingers, and loosed. The blade planted itself in the man's eye. Revulsion turned his stomach as the body dropped, twitching, to the dirt. He doubled up and vomited, hacking. 

A quick yank brought him back to reality, collar digging into his throat. He stabbed the guard under his raised arm hard as he could. The blade snapped as the man's weight crashed down to join its comrades. The Sparrow staggered as Jameel snagged his arm and pulled him along toward the nearest building as more guards and their living shadows came toward them from all directions. 

He scrambled up onto the roof, tugging the Master Assassin up by his robes as the man reached over the edge. "_Yallah. Yallah._" The Novice wasn't sure who he was saying it to or what for, only that it was a fervent prayer as they made their way across the stone and wood toward Acre's great walls. 

Jameel reached the wall first, jumping up and planting his foot on the wall, giving himself a boost onto the top. He turned, ducking as an arrow whistled by his ear, and held out his good arm. Lex threw himself up as far as he could, grasping the edge with his fingertips as Jameel caught him by the belt and dragged him up. 

A nervous laugh came from his throat as he eyed the jump. "Think the horses ate all the hay at the bottom?" No time, no time to wait for an answer. Jameel gave one of his shrill whistles as they stepped off into the air. The landing in the haystack jarred the air from both their lungs, teeth rattling. 

Lex was the first to get out of the straw. The wound in his leg had reopened, dying the bandage red as he moved toward Jameel's speckled horse. Jameel sat up, gasping for breath, and had to scramble quickly aside as an oil-soaked arrow set the stack aflame. 

In the glow of the fire, something small and silver glinted, tufted on one end, brought toward one of the white beaks. Jameel braced himself where he crouched, prepared to dodge away. But the boney face wasn't turned toward him... 

He was already moving before his brain caught up to his body, covering the distance between himself and the Novice in two strides what would normally have taken him four. A sharp pain stabbed into his shoulder as he picked Lex up and threw him onto the horse's back, grasping the saddle and swinging himself astride. 

He urged the animal forward as more arrows came for them, hurrying away from Acre. 

Damascus

Lex opened his eyes. He didn't know how he'd fallen asleep, but by the time he managed to pry his lids open Acre had faded into the distance. Sand was moving along beneath the horse's hooves. Sitting up, he grasped the horse's mane to keep himself steady, feeling motion sick. The taste of vomit from the earlier battle didn't help matters of the stomach. 

He looked back as he heard heavy panting in his ear. Jameel had a vice grip around his waist with his good arm. The man was shuddering and coughing, unable to catch his breath. 

The world from Jameel's perspective was causing him even more reason to wretch than Lex's. Dizziness had set in as they'd passed through the hills and out into the desert. Whether the Crows would be ahead of them in the next city was beyond him. He had bigger problems to deal with. Like there being five of everything. Why were there five of everything? He was sure he'd only brought one horse. There had to be one Lex. 

It took Jameel some time to realize what had been in the dart and by that time the spit had dried up in his mouth and his breath had been cut short. _Dammit._ He clutched at the boy in front of him, who seemed to have lost consciousness temporarily from the blood running down his leg. Panting, he tore off a part of his robes and tied it tight around Lex's leg, staunching the flow. _Stay awake!_

Relief flooded over him as the boy finally lifted his head from where he'd drooped over the saddle and looked at him. Or maybe that was a fresh wave of nausea. 

"Poison," he managed to say before toppling into the sand. 

"Shit! Shit! Jameel! Shit!" Lex fell hard onto his back as he struggled to get himself off the horse, his leg unable to support his weight. He pulled the man's robes open, all but tearing away his shirt, tunic, and armor. He pulled one of the throwing knives from the Master Assassin's belt, widening the hole in his shoulder where the dart had fallen from when he removed his clothes. He'd seen enough Indiana Jones movies to know what that was for. 

He bent his head and sucked at the enlarged hole, coughing as blood filled his mouth. The taste was metallic, yet unusually sour. He spat, sucked, and spat again. Coughed and spat. "You're not dying." Spat. "You're not." He took another mouthful of blood, letting it dribble into the sand. He hacked. "You're gotta kill that"—he hocked a bloody wad of spit down with the rest—"brother of yours remember?" More frantic spitting. He wiped the blood from his mouth and pressed his wadded up sleeve against the hole as hard as he could as he turned the Owl over and checked his breathing and pulse. "It's okay, Jameel. It's okay." He panted, a short coughing fit halting his words. "I'll—I'll take care of you. Don't worry, man. I'm gonna take care of you." 

The days passed hot and disgusting. The boy rationed the water between them, giving the bigger portion to the Red Owl. His mouth and throat felt like someone had stuffed cotton in them. Not even a drink could revive the saliva. Every now and then the constant battle with further sickness was lost; he clung to the horse's neck and heaved up the liquid in his stomach into the sand.

The nights were no better. Jameel's shivering intensified with the cold, heart beating frantically almost out of his chest. Lex was forced to ground tie the horse, bringing the reins up over its head and letting them trail on the ground. Taking the blanket from the horse's back, he covered the man with it and nestled against his side to give him further warmth. 

Finally, out of a haze of heat, water sloshed up against the horse's hooves. Lex looked at the stuff like it was another mirage—he'd have sworn up, down, and sideways that there'd been a McDonald's back on day three...or was it four? Two? How many had it been now? Five?—but knelt gratefully by it and filled the canteen. 

"_Shukran, Allah,_" he rasped and dragged himself back onto the horse where Jameel sat, grasping the saddle and trying to get his eyes to focus. The man had fallen in and out of a stupor for the entire journey since he'd sucked out the poison, and he still looked like he was ready to fall off the horse again. 

Lex didn't know if it was God, Yahweh, Allah, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster he should've been thanking as he rode into the cool shade of a canyon, following the creek, but he let out a whoop of joy at seeing stone walls rising up from the desert. It set him to coughing. 

The boy gripped the horse with his legs, the reins with one hand and Jameel with the other, as they made their way down the sloping track to Damas. The Sparrow didn't know Damascus from Aleppo, though, and one large, walled city in the middle of nowhere was as good as any. It also saved the Master Assassin from any "What is the capital of Assyria?" questions. 

Getting into the city proper was another chore Lex hadn't anticipated. Too tired to dismount or make any plan of sneaking in, he simply rode toward the soldiers guarding the gate. The men blocked the way with their spears. 

"What business do you have in Damas?" asked one. Lex sighed and cleared his throat, feeling a chill rush through his limbs as Jameel closed his fingers around the broken dagger's hilt where it stuck from his belt. 

"We're..." He coughed. "We're...scholars." He grasped the reins tighter in his fist, thinking of all the words he'd heard previously before picking the right ones and saying them. "Our caravan was...was attacked..." He hacked over his shoulder and waved toward the canyon. "There. Beyond there." The men looked between each other. The one who had taken it on himself to speak to them frowned. No attacks had been hear of from other travelers. 

"Are you ill?" The soldiers looked between each other and moved back as the question was asked. Lex all but sobbed. _There isn't time for this!_

"_La!_" Lex grasped at his hair, wanting to tear some of it out. "_Bismillah..._" The Saracen looked at the pair on the horse, at the dagger stuck in the young man's belt. He claimed to be a scholar, but why was he armed? He shook the thought away. It may have been instinctual to pick up a weapon during a battle; he certainly would have, if he'd been attacked unarmed. His eyes turned to the injury that was level with his face, the boy's leg caked in blood. 

"Have no worries, my friends. Salah al-Din has proclaimed that scholars may come and go as he pleased," he informed the two men. "You may stay as long as you wish." The men parted for them. 

"_Mashallah,_" Lex breathed, followed quickly by, "_Shukran._" _Why the hell didn't you say that in the first place, you ass?_ his mind groaned. The horse moved into the city. It was a cleaner place than Acre, the buildings almost dazzling shades of white or cream, minarets piercing the sky. Finding the Bureau in this place, if there was one, would have to come later. Jameel muttered a word into his ear. Lex asked about it to the nearest people. 

He sighed as they came to it, realizing it was an inn. Lowering Jameel from the animal's back, he helped him inside. Lacking the strength to do anything but want to rest, he said to the innkeeper, "_Asalaam alaykum,_" took the remaining change from his pocket, and dumped it on the counter. The man was left with the money as Lex trudged to the nearest free room and set Jameel on the bed. 

The Novice leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes, trembling. He sank to the floor, looking at the sleeping man resting beside him. He groaned as his stomach cramped yet again, curling up on his side against the wall. He forced his eyes open as his lids began to droop. 

_Don't sleep, damn you. Don't sleep._ He quickly clicked his—no, Jameel's—Hidden Blade in and out, the sting of the cut waking him. _Stay awake. I'll find the Bureau here. Just gotta stay awake. Help'll come... Just stay awake..._

It only felt like a few minutes had passed, but the Call to Prayer was coming loud into the room from what sounded like all directions and shadow almost entirely covered the room. Outside, the sun was setting. _Oh my God, I fell asleep with my eyes open._ Lex blinked and forced himself to a sit, wiping the spew from his mouth and as well as he could from the floor with a rag he tore off his clothes. "Yuck..." He stood and made his way to what amounted to an outhouse. Feeling more vile than ever after coming back into the room, he sank to the floor again. 

The Novice looked down at his leg as he felt something press against his thigh, something square. He took the iPod out from his pocket and turned it on. It still worked. He wanted to laugh at that—it was ironic somehow, he knew it—but didn't have the strength. Instead, he put the buds in his ears and turned on the loudest Russian metal he could find to keep his brain from shutting off like it had before.

Jameel squirmed on the bed, something loud interrupting his stupor. _Dammit._ He dragged his eyes open groggily. _I'm trying to sleep this off here._ His slitted eyes peered at the sight of a very jumpy Novice. He had that music thing in his ear, though what was blaring out of it didn't sound so much like music. More like someone dying by having their bowels twisted out through their mouths. 

"Lex?" He reached over and set a hand on the boy's leg. 

"Huh?" Lex stopped the noise and pulled the buds out. His ears rang for a minute before quieting. "Sorry." He shut off the device, rolled up the cords, and pocketed it again. He bowed over suddenly, dry heaving, stomach feeling worse than if he was stabbing himself with his dagger. Nothing came out this time, not even water. 

Jameel wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. His fever, which had developed over the last few days, still hadn't broken. _Damn those mercenaries. Distract with arrows, then poison when not paying attention. Clever bastards..._ He curled his fingers around the boy's sleeve and eased him over as well as he could. Turning quickly, he let the water he'd drunk a few hours earlier gush onto the floor, coughing. 

"This sucks." English had broken through again. Lex shuddered as the Red Owl turned back to him and huddled against him. "Jameel." 

"Hn?" 

The boy swallowed and tried to speak in the man's language, panting. "I—I don't feel good." He sighed as the canteen was pressed to his lips, a little water passing down his throat. "I don't feel good," he whimpered again, clutching his stomach as the water rose back up into his mouth and was swallowed again as bile. He choked, a little dribbling out onto the floor. "It hurts." 

"Shh." Jameel reached over, tugging the boy's hood down. "Please." His fingers combed into his hair. "Please, be quiet." Lex breathed faster, eyes barely open. 

"I don't wanna go to sleep." He shuddered. "I don't wanna sleep, Jameel." He groaned and covered his mouth, coughing and gagging on nothing. 

"_Bas._" He listened to the other's breathing, the staggered noise alone enough to drive him mad. "You don't have to sleep." His hand continued its work. "Just stay quiet for me." A few moments later the Novice was asleep. He sighed and brought the too warm little body closer to ward off the night's and the fever's chill.

Masyaf

Altair finished inspecting his wounds before placing more salves and bandages over them. Desmond opened his eyes as the other Eagle strapped on his Hidden Blade once more. The two of them had gotten out of the city through one of the other exits, much as Kadin had. They had parted ways with Jabal there, the old Rafiq telling them he would head for Jerusalem for the time being, and that if any of his pigeons had been harmed in the attack of the Bureau he would personally see to it that the door remained locked to them on every mission they took there. 

"Good. You're awake. I've sent messages to Jameel. Should he answer, we'll know if he's alive or dead." 

"What, you're not gonna go look yourself?" Golden eyes turned to stare at the bartender. 

"There aren't many places he can hole away between here and Acre. I find this more expedient." Desmond propped his elbows on his legs and moved his thumbs around in the air. "What are you doing?" 

"Oh, I'm sending him a text message: Where you at, Jameel?" Altair gave him an annoyed glare. The man frowned and lowered his arms to his lap. "But, really, you keep asking about him. He does have that kid with him, y'know." 

"You act as if you're worried about the boy." 

"You pursuing the goal of my imminent demise or something, gramps?" Desmond waved his hand at Altair. "Look, I may not like him all that much either, but Lex...He's my ticket home. And unless you want to spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that your bloodline's gonna end with me here in this time, you'd better start showing a little concern for that boy too." 

The two men fell silent, looking at one another. They were of an age, the same height, almost mirror images, but for their eyes. 

"This is odd." 

"You think this is odd? I have to explain where I've been to Lucy when I get home." 

"Who's Lucy?" 

"She's a woman I know." Altair smirked. "No. No, no, no. Not like that. Don't even dare."

Damascus

Lex rubbed the sand from his eyes. _Sandman really wanted me to sleep, huh?_ he thought and sighed. His stomach had stopped twisting itself into a frothy boil and the warmth surrounding him was a pleasant change from the cold that had crept up on him hours before. 

He looked at the man opposite him and was astonished at how close he was, arms holding him in a loose embrace, but the memory of the nights in the desert came pouring back into his sleep-fogged mind. A survival mechanism, that was all this was, he reminded himself. A smile turned up the edges of his lips, daydreams of a chilly Masyaf night forming before his mind's eye. 

Reaching back, he picked up the canteen and took a drink to wash away the taste of vomit that caked his mouth and throat. He capped off his drink and turned the container in his hands. He looked at it, tracing lines over the surface and trying to nag those persistent images away. 

The Novice stood and moved to the window where moonlight was cascading into the room, providing a dim source of illumination for the room. Turning his back to the window, he started to throw a few punches toward his shadow. 

A distraction from his distraction came in the form of a hooting noise from outside. Lex turned and looked out the window. An owl was perched on the sill, staring at him with large, yellow eyes. Had it thought his ducking and moving was that of prey? The brown owl hooted again, flapping its wings. He threw his arms up as it flew at him, only to almost fall over as its weight latched onto his—Jameel's—bracer. 

The Sparrow looked the bird up and down. It bobbed its head up and down and reached out its neck, nibbling his robes. He stroked its wings tentatively, running his fingers down its back as he caught sight of something tied to the owl's leg. Untying the small roll of paper, he went to the window and unfolded it. 

His eyes traced the squiggles and dots carefully, following them right to left. The owl clamped its beak onto a chunk of his hair, moving it around as he looked at Jameel. The Red Owl was out once again. 

Lex rubbed the owl's chest feathers, pushing it back onto the sill, looking for something to write on. He felt in his pockets and pulled out his keys. Undoing his belt, a section was cut off quickly with the broken dagger. The Novice re-cinched his belt and let the glorified nocturnal carrier pigeon chew on his head, or whatever it was doing to his hair, and carved into the leather with his keys in large, blocky English letters: _In Damas. Owl sick. Send help. Send back word._

Punching another hole in the leather, he wrapped it around the bird's leg and tied it off with three hard knots and pocketed his keys.

Letting the predator hop onto his arm again, he whispered, "Go. Go to Masyaf." The brown owl flew off into the night. Lex settled his arms against the sill and watched it disappear, gazing up at the sky.

Masyaf

Desmond groaned as something thumped down on his chest. 

'Who's on top of me?" 

"Hoo." 

"Yeah, who, you sorry sack of—" He stared at the large eyes gazing back at him before letting out a scream. Altair flew up into a crouch, looking around. He saw Desmond staring and pointing and whipped his head around, looking at the fluffed up animal hissing at him. 

"Desmond, you idiot, that's Jameel's bird." 

"He uses an owl as a carrier pigeon?" The owl relaxed its feathers, eyeing the barkeep as it landed on Altair's outstretched arm. It had made good time, easily winging its way to Masyaf. Jameel had trained the she-owl well since finding it fallen out of the nest. Altair handed the message on its leg to the other man. Des grinned as he read. "All right! They're alive!" 

His mouth shut as he caught the look Altair was giving him. The other man disappeared, a light appearing as he sat at the table with the bird. Desmond moved over, squinting in the light, and took the quill from him, getting ink smeared all over his fingers as he wrote: _See you there._

Tying off the message with a fresh piece of twine, Jameel's bird hopped to the end of the table and flapped to the sill, giving another hop and rising into the air outside. 

"What now?" he asked, following his ancestor outside. 

"Now we go to meet them."

Damascus

The two Eagles rode at a gallop across the sand, only slowing when their horses were too tired to hold the pace. Even so, they made good time, dawn's light peeking over the horizon as they tied their horses near the canyon and walked inside, heads bowed, prayers murmured from their lips. 

Altair walked surely through the streets of Damascus, keeping his eyes on the guards as Desmond looked around for a sign from the two Assassins. There were no beaks in black to be seen, for which they were grateful. 

A screech alerted the two men to the owl seated above their heads on the inn roof. The men walked down the side street beside the building. The owl fluttered down to the window and hopped inside. Desmond made his way up and into the room, Altair stepping inside after him. 

In the growing light, the relatives could see Lex where he sat against the wall, chin tucked against his chest. Jameel was still lying where the Novice had left him. Altair padded over and crouched, putting a hand over the boy's mouth. Lex gasped, eyes wide. The Sparrow sighed as he saw who it was. 

He stood as the man moved away, only to sink to his knees. Desmond took his arm, pulling him up onto his back as Altair hefted Jameel and brought him to the window. After some doing, they got the injured Owl down and carried both their brothers to their mounts. 

The owl clacked her beak in a yawn and flew off toward home. Neither of the men saw the movement in the shadows, intent on their task. They stood in the shadows of the walls, staring with beaked, masked faces. They didn't bother to engage the Assassins. 

They watched them go. 

The ride back left all four exhausted. Despite stops to catch their breath and one to water the horses, it did nothing for the fatigue as much as their own beds would. It was growing near evening when they finally made it through the gates of the mountain stronghold. 

The group made its way up the mountain slope, helping in some way to support Jameel. The first to peel off was Desmond, who collapsed in his usual stack of hay near the barbican. Altair left them at the dais, making some pretense or other of speaking to Al Mualim. 

The Sparrow was left to half-drag, half-carry the Master Assassin into the infirmary. There he laid down and muttered something to one of the servants. He wasn't sure of the exact words, but the intended gist had been one of asking them to help sort them out. 

Four days went by with little improvement from the Red Owl. He continued to sleep, waking only for a drink, a little food, maybe to bark at the nearest servant to help him get up to go take a piss.

Lex spent the time not checking on his friend doing whatever he could that seemed productive. He moved through the village, striking up conversations with whomever he could, even if it was just the usual pleasantries of a greeting. He sparred with Desmond and Altair, the elder Eagle temporarily taking over their training during the time he had between missions. Learning to grapple someone would have hurt under any circumstance, but this man took training like a personal offense. Black and blue were becoming common colors for their darkening skin. He and Desmond were even shown the way to the showers! 

In fact, hygiene became a lesson unto itself, given to them by a man called Rauf. Altair had requisitioned his services before leaving once again. 

Clean and feeling it for the first time in ages, the time travelers laid down for another snatch at rest. 

Five days after their return from Damascus, Jameel finally roused himself enough to sit up. There was a constant buzzing in his brain, an annoying fly he couldn't swat dead. Being in a safe place with no one to bother him had done him well. 

_I'd feel like shit either way,_ he thought, rubbing his temples with his good hand. His ribs protested as he moved to a more comfortable, cross-legged sit, but were ignored. 

Beside him, Lex sat up and knuckled the sleep from his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and looked at him. 

"Morning." 

Jameel nodded his hello, then took the food offered by one of the servants and devoured it. 

"Who wants Assassin steak?" He paused with the fork to his mouth. So, he was finally learning to speak. Lex nodded toward his wounds. "Giant Templar sure did." With that, he stood and walked out. 

He moved into the courtyard, making his usual circuit of the place. Desmond was reclining against the training yard fence, torturing another Novice with... What was he torturing him with? 

"How's Jameel?" 

"You ever seen steak tartar?" The boy felt a little pride at being able to answer in the language that seemed to flow so easily from the bartender's mouth. Desmond nodded and changed the subject, "Wanna spar?" 

"Swords this time." He nodded. The two picked up the wooden training swords and entered the ring for a short bout, mostly blocking and dodging.

It had been quiet around the place. No one dared venture outside for fear of stumbling upon Ravenwatch. Not that the buzzards would have gone after Masyaf itself. The pair stopped as the noon Call rang over the city. Desmond looked over at him. Lex shrugged. They had tried answering it once, to see how it was. 

It had been odd and slightly uncomfortable to feel the eyes turning on them, even if they'd been only glances. 

"Do you think they would attack here?" 

"Who knows?" 

"I'll be inside if you need me." 

"Yeah, take care, Lex." 

"Safety and peace, man." The Sparrow hopped up the steps of the dais and moved into the library. His reading level was next to nothing, but looking at the scrawled writing, letting his eyes move over it, right and left, right and left, gave him something to do. Sometimes one of the elder Assassins would take a little pity on him and help him read. _One of these days, I just might get it._

Lex walked up the stairs from the library, following one of the dove-tailed sets around to where they joined again in front of a desk. The desk was positioned squarely in front of a large window, flanked on either side by shelves. From one set of shelves the cooing of pigeons could be heard. As he moved closer, the Novice saw...something on the desk. 

It looked like a globe, but was only slightly smaller than a soccer ball. He padded closer, moving up the single step to stand in front of the Assassin symbol and get a better look at the thing. His head tilted to one side. He felt as if his eyes were fixed on it. Edging forward, he reached out a hand to pick it up. 

"Novice!" The spell was broken. He almost loosed his bowels along with it. "I send my best men after you and this is how your repay me? Skulking around my quarters?" The boy bolted, falling hard as he missed the step down. He got up and kept running until he reached the infirmary. There he flung himself around the doorway, planted himself on the floor by the wall, and pressed a hand to his chest, where his heart threatened to burst on him. 

The boy's pounding into the room woke Jameel. His face twisted into frustration, then confusion. Finally, it changed to a resigned sort of curiosity. 

"What'd you do now?" Something must have riled Lex to get him to look like a trapped chicken.

"I dunno!" Lex looked up at him. "I planned on staying in the library for a bit, but then I went up the stairs. Then I saw this...this thing. It looked like a giant, golden egg on the desk in there." The boy's gaze shifted into the distance, as though he was still back in the room. "I wanted to touch it." A blink and the strange look was gone. "Then this old man came in screaming and I got the hell outta there. Whadya think that thing was?" 

"You trespassed in Al Mualim's quarters?" Jameel had that death-dealing "Were you temporarily insane?" look on his face. What the hell was Lex doing in there? He sighed and shook his head. He would ask later. For now, "An egg? You're sure it was an egg?" 

Lex echoed the sigh as he saw the look on the other's face and nodded. 

"Yeah, it looked like an egg. A weird, gold egg, about the size of..." He moved his hands in a rough estimate of the circumference, dropping into English, "About the size of a soccer ball." 

Jameel nodded, discounting the reference to yet another thing he didn't know about. Lex's speech was full of those. Desmond's as well, but not as much. So, he wasn't about to ask what the hell a soccer ball was. The boy had gotten his attention with the mention of the odd item, though. 

He had seen it when he'd spoken to Al Mualim once after Altair and Malik returned from Jerusalem, to thank him for the chance to train the Novice. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now that it had been pointed out again, his mind began to work. 

"Now what would he be doing with that? We have no use for treasure." It was true that his brothers had taken it from Templar hands, always a good thing, but otherwise it was just another pretty bauble with little use. Lex shrugged. 

"Maybe it's one of those Eden things you were talking about before?" A thought struck him. "Hey, maybe that thing could get us home. It's supposed to be some kind of mystical thing, right?" 

This line of thought brought on a whole new set of problems. Maybe that thing was a Piece of Eden. Jameel shook his head again. The risk wasn't worth it. 

"Lex, think. If we decide to do anything, not that we are, think about what I'm going to say. How are we going to get it without the Grandmaster noticing? Not only that, we don't know what it does. It could melt the flesh off our bones." _Or turn us into ground meat, or inside out. Whatever,_ his thoughts added. His mind was divided between extreme curiosity and the fear that when he found out what the thing did, he didn't want to stop using it.

"Why do you think my friends always sent me in when the laws of physics posed the threat of maiming or killing us?" Lex murmured flatly, raising a brow as he met Jameel's eyes. "I could try and sneak it out. Mean, the old man only saw me going to poke the thing. He might think I came back. It wouldn't get anyone else in trouble then either." He gave a small, almost mischievous grin that didn't go above the corners of his mouth. 

"I severely doubt he'd part with something like that, stolen or not." Jameel countered his grin with a glare that could have made the entire Middle East have freak blizzards if it had had the power. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low, "He'd probably kill you on the spot. If he made you run like that, then you don't stand a chance." Yes, the Grandmaster could and would kill him without any trouble if he tried anything like that. Desmond wouldn't be able to go home, and Altair's bloodline would collapse. Besides, he didn't want a Novice, especially his Novice, tangling with the Grandmaster over some item. No matter how shiny it happened to be. 

Lex gulped and nodded as he felt the blood in his extremities freeze with the force of the glare. He nodded again when Jameel had finished speaking, fighting the urge to say, "Yes, sir." He forced himself to look away from Jameel and clenched his fists a few times to get his blood flowing again. 

"Just..." Lex shifted his eyes back to his. Jameel's gaze had softened considerably. A raging blizzard had become a calm snowfall. "Don't think about that golden thing right now." 

"Yeah. Sure." His heart couldn't decide whether it wanted to lodge in his throat and choke him or drop into his stomach and give him a stitch in his side. An urge brought on by sheer stupidity had made itself known in the Novice's mind. He clamped a lid on it quickly and returned his eyes to the wall beside him, lest the idiocy of it spur him to action. 

_Stop it!_ he railed against it mentally. _Stop it, stop it!_ He ducked his head, curling his arms over his neck and head in an effort to get his breathing under control and shove that damned urge away that had lodged itself in him and refused to leave now that he was barred from thinking on anything but it. 

Jameel kept his gaze soft as he looked at the boy, laying back down. A quick mental evaluation told him that he was on the fast track to recovering. He was still sore and looked like pulverized meat, but he'd been sitting up for a while, his ribs and arm were healing nicely, and the hole in his shoulder, despite itching like crazy, was disappearing. He could focus on the problem at hand. Namely, the boy who looked like he was going to start crying any minute. 

"I know you want to go home," he said, choosing his words cautiously. "Hopefully, we'll find a way to get you and Desmond back home. A different way than the item on Al Mualim's desk. I personally don't trust that odd thing anyway."

"It's not that." The words came out strangled and forced. Lex leaned forward, now sitting on his knees, hands white-knuckled and grasping his jeans into a tight wad at the knees. If he could have reached back and disconnected his spine from his brain stem, if that would have gotten _rid_ of the thing bothering him, he would have. But he couldn't, and he knew it wouldn't go away even if he could and did do that. "If"—He took a breath, tongue wetting his dry, chapped lips. His arms were shaking, nails digging into his palms to leave red crescents—"If do something absolutely stupid, idiotic, and insane, Jameel, promise not to kill me on the spot?" 

Jameel sat up again, turning to the Sparrow. Concern and confusion warred on his face. Genuinely, confusion won out. What was Lex going to do now? Nail Desmond with a chicken so that it crapped on his head? Dance with a goat? Scare one of the servants witless? 

"Um...yes. Yes, I promise," he said and waited patiently. Another breath was taken; the tremors in the boy's arms subsided. 

Lex leaned over and kissed him.

**La = No**

**Mashallah = Praise/Thank God**

**Bas = Enough**

**What a twist! What did you guys think of it? More to come soon.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **AC owns all its characters and items, Altair, Al Mualim, Desmond, the works. Jameel belongs to Kronoton and Lex is mine.

**Thanks for the reviews from Storm and Aaron.**

Masyaf  
>Late August to Early September, 1191<p>

The granddaddy of all confused stares crossed Jameel's face at that instant. Lex...just kissed him? Lex was kissing him. What the hell was going on? Lex was kissing him! These thoughts were peripheral, stuck to the edges of his mind by the overwhelming shock of the action.

Then, just as quickly, Lex pulled away and ran. The man didn't even register how he got onto his feet, only that he was pounding for the door like the entire crusading force of Europe was waving their swords at his head. He watched him leave, not feeling well enough to give chase. Lying down was altogether a euphemism for collapsing. He stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. His mind tried to cobble together a logical string of thoughts, which kept being overridden by foolish, emotional exclamations.

_What was that? Lex kissed me. For what? What did I do? What did I do to deserve that? Why? Why did he do that? What the hell is going on?_

His brain screamed at him to take the boy and give him a good lashing when he returned. _But that's not what..._ He shook his head and wrangled his thoughts into some sort of order. Grasping his head, he focused on the issue and previous experiences with similar happenings.

Lex had kissed him. That was the issue. A boy, his student, a Novice, had kissed him. No, no, he wasn't a boy. Even Jameel had noticed the fine, light fuzz coming to the young man's upper lip. Since the time he had come to Masyaf he'd become a very small sort of young man. Still having so much to learn, runty, but a young man nonetheless.

Experiences came next. He had kissed women before. Of course he had. He often enough bedded them afterward to continue his bloodline if they so wished. Lex wasn't a woman, though. The Sparrow couldn't have been a woman if someone dressed him as one.

He'd seen men kiss men in greeting; these being close friends, but that was the only time. Often enough, he'd seen these friends moving along the streets, speaking rapidly, gesticulating with one arm, the other locked with his fellow's or clasping his hand. A pang of envy had risen in his chest. The same pang rose up now, a desire for that sort of intimacy. The kind that had been denied him by his brother's presence, one he tended not to allow himself even now. He quashed the feeling. That was far and away from this fragile line of thinking.

_Enough,_ he decided. _I can't know anything for certain until I question him about his motives. Speculation does me no good._ Letting his head turn to one side, he realized that it was the side where the Sparrow had lain over the duration of his bed rest. He turned his head away and shut his eyes, unaware that his head turned back to the same position in his sleep.

The Novice had run all the way to the top of the tower and stayed there for the greater part of the day. The dimming light and hunger forced him to come down for a meal and to wander the now familiar pathways of Masyaf. As night approached, he contemplated sleeping on the tower, but decided against it. He'd probably fall off and snap his own stupid neck.

Lex steeled himself and returned to the infirmary. He was safe from a chat, Jameel asleep again. His brows were furrowed, as if he was thinking even in his sleep. Sighing, he dropped down to get some rest himself, but the sleep that came to him was one of a man going to the mental gallows.

His brain conjured up images of what awaited him in the morning: optical disembowelment, verbal evisceration, probably a good, old-fashioned ass kicking. Jameel had promised not to kill him. Taking him, ripping him apart, and stitching him back together so that he maintained an inch of life wasn't killing him, his mind reasoned.

Lex sighed and opened his eyes as daylight filtered into the room. He got up, ate a quick breakfast, and sparred a little with Desmond. Returning to the room, he slept again, a sleep of fatigue that left him a little better rested for his lack of thoughts. He opened his eyes as he felt another pair on him.

Jameel scratched around the healing hole in his shoulder, not enough to break the skin, just to ease up slightly on the itching. He watched as the boy's breathing shifted in waking, though he was still feigning sleep.

The Novice swallowed and sat up, moving onto a sit on his knees once more. _All right. Let's get this over with so I can go find a hole to crawl into and die in when he's done flaying my skin off with his eyes and tongue._

"Yeah?" His voice came out in a tentative whisper as he lifted his eyes to the man.

Jameel's stare wasn't one of hatred. It was confusion and curiosity both. Even his voice held no malice or mockery in any way, when he responded, "Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I felt like if I didn't I'd go absolutely insane." Lex licked his lips. "Because I wanted to walk up to that brother of yours and rip his throat out with my teeth when he was holding you over the water. Because you almost died saving me, and helped me when my leg was broken, and I almost sat on my hands whenever you showed me those scars of yours 'cause I wanted to reach over and touch 'em." It took him a moment to realized he'd been saying all this out loud, and that he was nose to nose with the Owl. The blood thrummed cold in his veins, heart feeling as though it had waltzed into his mouth and stopped beating there. "Because I want to do it again...and..." He shut up and did it again.

This caught Jameel off guard once again, but the rest of him didn't listen to that the way his mind did. He found himself kissing back.

Lex smiled against his lips, closing his eyes. By the time he remembered that oxygen was necessary for breathing and breathing a function for sustaining life, he'd twisted one hand into Jameel's hair and the other around his back, accidentally weighing the other man down onto his back. "Might wanna hang onto me," he chuckled. "I might start doing back flips off the tower for all I know." Jameel looked up at him with a serious expression that almost killed the moment, though it was tinged with some other unreadable emotion.

"You do realize that when you do have a way to get home, it'll be difficult to part?" He used his good arm to grip Lex's shoulder as he wrapped it around him, bringing him down into another kiss, eyes shut this time. _Yes, that will be a problem. If we're going to go through with this... Well, it will just be hard._

The kiss was broken again by him this time, both breathing hard.

Lex tugged his good arm down, finding his hand and twining their fingers together.

"It'd better be difficult." He squeezed his hand as he looked into Jameel's eyes. "Probably end up killing Altair and Dessy off, if they had to try and yank us apart to get me to go home." He dipped his head down, pressing his lips to the scars he'd feared to touch before. A soft sound came from him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Jesus Christ... Can—can we think about now, right now, at least for a minute?"

"Sure." Jameel pulled his head up again. "We'll think about now." Their lips brushed again. Lex settled onto his forearms and knees, kissing him harder than before, as though trying to push every ounce of what he felt into the pressure. He gasped as something warm invaded his mouth, tongues wrestling against each other.

Jameel raised a brow when Lex stopped kissing him and rolled off to his side, hands behind his head and a smile on his face. He spread out his arms before putting them behind his head again.

"Go ahead. Do whatever you want."

"When no one else is around."

"Who's around?"

"Servants can walk in on us at any minute. Besides, I have broken ribs and a shattered arm. To top all that off, I'm also slightly weakened from poison." He set his hand over the Sparrow's. "Which I still need to thank you for. Thank you for saving me from the poisoned dart."

He meant every word. Had it not been for Lex, he would have been dead already, another rotting body in the sand. He owed his life to the little bird for saving him from the venomous tricks of the crows.

Lex's shook his head and turned on his side, smiling at him.

"_Afwan._" He kissed him lightly, only to freeze as someone cleared their throat. Desmond waved from the doorway, grinning fit to split his face in half.

"Next time shut the door, guys." He ducked as Lex threw a pillow at him. "Hey, hey, it was a fair warning." He smirked at the other boy from the future, unable to resist a bit of childishness. "Lex and Jameel, sitting in a tree, F—" A throwing knife sent him backing away from the threshold, the blade imbedded in the wood beside his head. The younger Eagle shut the door and ran.

The Sparrow's face had turned pomegranate red, lips still pressed against Jameel's. The Owl hadn't even moved out of the kiss to throw; the knife had shown up beside Desmond's head of its own accord. Jameel flicked his tongue over their lips before pulling away.

"What do we do now that Dessy saw us?" Lex asked. Jameel shrugged lopsidedly.

"Desmond found out. We cannot change that." The man settled onto his back, bringing the younger man to his side. "If he does tell anybody, well..." He let the threat hang open-ended. _Well, Altair, I'm sorry to say my bloodline is already anchored down. I'm not fading away anytime soon._ He looked at Lex, fingers toying with a strand of his hair. _Unlike most of the people here, I may do as I please._

X x X

In the courtyard, the two Eagles were locked blade to blade. Unlike Lex, who'd gotten off from training relatively easily in his opinion, Desmond was trained every spare moment by his ancestor. Now they stood and tested each other's strength.

Above them, Jameel's owl swooped down and alighted on the fence rail. She appeared to watch Altair and Desmond spar. The owl hooted and stretched her neck out to get a better look at the straining figures. She looked away to preen her feathers, but went back to watching each time.

"Hey," Desmond grunted, "it's the owl." He looked up and waved to it. Altair took the chance to punch him upside the head. The younger Eagle staggered, then countered with a knee toward the Master Assassin's face. Altair leaned back, avoiding the blow. "What's its name anyway?"

"Ask Jameel sometime." Altair parried his blade as it came around for his belly, kicking Desmond back.

The owl swooped to another perch closer to the men where it got a better view. She hooted again as Desmond went in for a jab and was dropped on his back; it sounded like laughter. He shot the bird a look. _Is that thing laughing at me? It is laughing at me! Somebody grab me a rock._

Altair watched as Desmond stalked over to the bird and lowered himself to eye level with it.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" He gave a good imitation of Altair's fiendish having-just-killed-someone grin. "I'll turn you into a feather duster, bird. Laugh at me again."

_Fool, it's only going to shit on your head and laugh,_ Altair thought to himself, folding his arms. Sure enough, Desmond reached up and picked up the pellet the owl had coughed onto his head like a massive loogie. He stared at it before cringing and letting it fall to the sand.

The owl laughed again, as unafraid of the grin as her master, and flew to Altair's shoulder. There she picked past his hood to play with his stubbly hair. It looked like it couldn't tell the difference between Altair and Jameel because of the white hood, but it was enjoyable to watch all the same. The bartender noted it down as another thing to tell Lucy. Altair stroked the owl's feathers a bit.

"Go find that boy in the infirmary. He's with your master. He has more hair to fuss with," he murmured to the owl. He watched as she winged toward the doorway before turning back to Desmond, who was still searching his hair for left over projectile owl shit, and kicked him in the chest. He held out his hand to the man he'd knocked onto his back. "Get up, Novice, we're still training."

The owl easily found the two in the infirmary, having been made to nest there often enough when her master was injured, and rearranged the boy's hair to her liking. She went out again, caught a rat, and flew back, devouring the animal as day approached. Finally, she moved to her makeshift nest and slept.

This would be repeated over the next weeks as the four men fell into an odd sort of rhythm. Desmond slept in his haystack, sparred with Lex, and wandered around Masyaf's rooftops and streets when not training with Altair or pestering Jameel. The last time wasting activity usually got him chased away by knives or a very angry ball of feathers.

"C'mon, Jameel, there are only so many things a man can do around here," he finally whined.

"Go read a book, Desmond. Or can't you?" Jameel stared at the chess board set between himself and Lex. The game had come up as a matter of twenty questions. Lex had managed to mentally backtrack from kissing the Master Assassin to wondering what he actually knew about him. The truth was not very much.

Jameel had been at one of his self-imposed light work outs when Lex had walked in, sat down, and asked with as serious an expression as he could muster, "What's your favorite color?" The Red Owl had looked at him for a long time before sighing and feeling his forehead.

Once Lex explained what he meant by that and assured the man he hadn't taken one too many headers from the tower, Jameel had answered with, "Ask me something that makes sense." Favorite games had been the next thing to crop up in his mind.

"Chess."

"You guys have chess here?"

"Yes, of course. You know the game?"

"Yeah. I can't do much more than push wood, though." Jameel had had a good laugh at that. "What?" Lex grinned. "My dad never could get the strategies into my head. I never got why doing one thing was better than doing something else. Okay, it's not that funny!" Jameel gripped his shoulder, his laughter dying off into a chuckle.

"Get me a board, little bird. I'll teach you how to play."

Jameel had taken almost all of his pieces again, but Lex had set up a good defense with what he had left. Desmond looked at the board and finally decided to sit and watch them. The two players sat rigid as statues, Desmond as engrossed in the board as they were. Finally, a smile stole onto the Owl's face. Lex's eyes widened.

"What? You found a way through?"

"Yes and no."

"What is it? How're you gonna win this time?"

"Like this," he said and turned the board so that Lex's pieces were on his end. Desmond slapped his leg and threw back his head, cackling at the other time traveler's distraught look. The Novice sighed and knocked the king over. The Red Owl reached over and pressed the piece into his hand.

The two easily let Desmond in on their games, but the bartender left them alone when things became too familiar for his health. It was usually at the end of the match when Lex would do a little of what amounted to homework. Jameel would help him along with his studies, giving little hints as needed.

Jameel settled back and listened. Reading the unfamiliar Arabic writing was still troublesome, but he was getting there, if at the level of a young child. His speech was improving, even with the ponderous stresses his accent provided.

"What about you?" he asked, cutting Lex off mid-sentence.

"What about me what?"

"Tell me about yourself." Lex set the book down. Maybe it was good Jameel distracted him. _Friggin Abu Nuwas... Yeah, don't wanna have any issues in the middle of a lesson._ It wasn't his fault that the man had written what he'd written, just that he thought about the person next to him when he read it.

"What?" He shrugged. "What? Specifics. What?"

"Are either of your parents Assassins?"

"No! They..." He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Can we talk about something else?" The man nodded. Lex settled on his side, head propped on his hand.

"Are you anyone's student there?" The boy gave him a confused look. Jameel turned onto his own side. "Like here."

"I went to school. Everybody goes to school." Lex shrugged and shook his head. "But not like here."

"They obviously didn't teach you very well if you don't know how to read."

"The books were in English, Jameel! It's not like American kids are expected to know"—he waved his hand and grasped at a number—"five languages!"

"If it helps your injured pride, my French is terrible."

"Say something."

Jameel made a face and spoke through his nose, making his voice rasp as he did, "_Je suis Robert de Sable!_" The men looked at each other before slipping into peals of laughter.

"Don't ever do that again." The laughter eventually subsided, replaced by silence. A silence that was too uncommon in the castle. Lex frowned, listening. No footsteps, not a servant or Assassin walked the halls. Wait, there were some!

Desmond swung around into the room, breathing heavily as he crouched down.

"Guys, we have a problem. There's—" The words were cut off by the sound of boots on the floor, advancing toward the room. The Master Assassin rose to a sit, skin prickling with gooseflesh. The steps grew louder.

Al Mualim turned into the doorway, his eyes, both the seeing and the blinded one, scanned them. A glowing object, the treasure from Solomon's Temple, was in his hand.

**Afwan = You're welcome**

**Je suis Robert de Sable = I am Robert de Sable**

**Glad everybody seems to be liking the latest chapters. ^^ I'll keep writing if you guys keep reading and enjoying. Next chapter'll be coming as soon as possible.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **AC's characters, items, etc. belong to them. Jameel belongs to Kronoton. Lex is mine.

**I know this is probably useless as all get out, but…SPOILER ALERT: There are spoilers for ACR in this chapter. Thanks again to Storm and Aaron for reviewing. And thanks, Krono, for the ACR walkthrough info.**

Masyaf  
>September, 1191<p>

"Jameel, I'm glad to have found you," said the Grandmaster, looking at the Master Assassin. When he next spoke, his voice was almost hypnotic, "Altair has gone mad. He plans to come to Masyaf and kill me. You must defend me from him." 

"What?" Jameel frowned and looked between the others. "Master, Altair would never do such a thing to you." 

"But he would, my child, he would. That is why you must go and end his life for me." 

_No, that's wrong. Altair would never do such a thing,_ he thought, mind fixing itself on the illogicality of the words. _Altair cares for the Master like he would for his own father, perhaps more so. He would never go mad and try to unseat Al Mualim. Altair isn't that kind of man._

"Master, I can't." Jameel squeezed his eyes shut as his head began to pound. 

"What of you?" Al Mualim turned to the two Novices. "Surely, my boys, you will fight for me." 

"Desmond," Lex whispered, "why is the creepy old man trying to Jedi mind trick us?" 

"I don't know. Just play along." Desmond nodded. "Whatever you say, Master." He stood and left the room quickly, keeping his hood up and his head down. The old man turned toward Lex and Jameel. 

"Will you join him in defending me?" 

Catching onto Desmond's game, Jameel said, "Yes, Master." Lex quickly followed it up with, "Brains." He staggered as the Owl pulled him to his feet and out the door. 

"Brains?" Jameel hissed as they halted sharply, people blocking their path-servants and villagers. They stared straight ahead, muttering to themselves. When the Assassins pushed, they moved, but it was more bodily reflex than conscious decision. 

"Yeah, brains. Was going for the whole mindless zombie thing. Like these guys." They finally broke free of the bodies, only to be brought up short again as they ran through the barbican. This time it was swords. 

Lex felt the ring around his pinkie dig into his skin as the Hidden Blade sprang free of its sheath, feet falling into position one behind the other should he need to move forward and ram it into the swordsmen's throats. Jameel grabbed him by the hood as he began to move; the Sparrow gagged.

"A fine way to be greeted! What, no 'safety and peace be upon you' this time, Novice?" The owner of the sword moved into view. 

"Malik?" Lex coughed, rubbing at his throat. 

"No, I'm Salah al-Din. Who gave him this Hidden Blade? And why does he have all his digits?" 

"It's mine, Malik." The Dai looked Jameel up and down as he spoke. The Owl drew the dagger from his belt, one of the few weapons besides his throwing knives he'd made himself wear every day despite his injuries, and moved after his one-armed comrade. "I see having your sword arm comes is paying off." 

"You so could've said handy." The two men shot the Novice a look. "Yes, I know, horribly inappropriate, but it'd be funny." 

"Is he always like this?" asked Malik, brows lifted as he pursed his lips. 

Jameel left the question unanswered and continued walking as he said to Lex, "You're returning my Hidden Blade when this is over, Novice." Lex stopped so quickly Malik turned his head. 

"Novice?" The boy lifted his arms and let them drop to his sides, slapping against his legs. "That's it?" He did it a second time, consternation showing on his face. "Novice?" Malik shifted his eyes between them. What was going on? 

"Yes." Jameel narrowed his eyes. "We don't have time for this." The boy, who'd drawn his head back in surprise at the man's first statement, tilted his chin up quickly and clicked his tongue. Malik's eyebrows shot up to almost touch his hairline. For the short time he'd been acquainted with the boy, he'd known him to be difficult, such as when he made comments after everything the Hawk said, but this was downright insubordinate. 

Malik shifted his gaze between them again. Why didn't Jameel go over and cuff the Novice? Put him in his place so they could get moving? Instead, he ordered, "Get moving, Lex." 

"Psh." The Dai almost hit the boy over the head himself for the derisive noise. "Whatever you say, _Master_." The last word was spat as he shouldered between the two Master Assassins. It was only then that Malik realized the Novice had been speaking their language. 

The group moved to join the men Malik had brought from Jerusalem, heading toward the ridge overlooking the village where Lex and Jameel had sat when the Owl had returned from his solo trip to Acre. Below them, Altair was surrounded, fending off sword thrusts from the brainwashed guards. 

The men that weren't brought low by the Master Assassin were dispatched from above by a shower of throwing knives.

"Altair! Up here!" Malik called. The elder Eagle looked up and ran to meet them. The two men conversed quickly, Malik informing Altair about a journal Robert de Sable had kept. Who de Sable was, Lex wasn't certain, although from Jameel's mimicry of him he assumed he was a French knight. Altair warned Malik to stay away from the old man. _Duh..._ "It would be a mistake not to use us." 

"Assault the fortress from behind," Altair was saying, the exact conversation breaking through the boy's mental haze. "If you can draw their attention away from me, I might reach Al Mualim." 

"I will do ask you ask, Dai." The Novices looked between the men and each other. Desmond had a knowing look on his face, an almost smile. 

"These men we fight. Their minds are not their own." 

"Jedi mind trickery did it." Jameel clamped a hand over the Sparrow's mouth as the other Masters looked at him. 

Altair continued with a sigh of irritation, "If you can avoid killing them, do so." 

"Yes. Though he has betrayed the tenets of the Creed, it does not mean we must as well." Malik nodded. "I will do what I can." 

"That's all I ask. Safety and peace, my friend." Malik pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. 

"Your presence will deliver us both." With that, they were off, Altair up to the keep and the rest down the slope into the village. The two time travelers found themselves carried along in the middle of the group and were glad of it. Had they been told to find the way on their own, they would have been wandering the mountains for days. As it was, Jameel and two men brought up the rear behind them, with Malik and the remaining two up in front. 

Malik raised his arm, halting their progress. He drew his sword and moved off into the brush alongside the path, motioning Jameel to follow. The other Assassins split off into pairs as well, leaving the Novices to scurry into the nearest clump of shrubbery. From their position, they could see another path that led up to the back wall of the keep. Along with the very steep climb up to the back wall of the keep. 

"Can I say something?" Lex asked. 

"No, but you're gonna say it anyway," said Desmond. 

"Smart. Yeah, about that." He pointed to the climb. "How the hell does he expect us to get up there?"

"Quiet!" Lex almost threw himself into the air with the jump the scare gave him. The bartender calmly turned and looked at Jameel. "Get ready. We'll move in fast and hard." 

"That didn't sound dirty." The man shot Desmond through with a look. "Fast and hard. Understood, sir. On which position?" 

"Take the track down toward the keep. The guard will be alerted and come to you. From that point, cover fire will be provided by-what are you snickering about?" His death glare was turned on Lex this time. 

"Will medical care be made available at a discounted premium for us cannon fodder?" Judging from looks alone, Desmond was sure Jameel didn't need his stare to kill Lex. He would have gladly done it with his single working hand. Desmond shoved the boy onto the dirt track and all but sent him tumbling head over ass down it in his haste to get moving. 

"Look, stop being a pain in the ass," he said as they rounded the bend below where the other Assassins were positioned. 

"I'm not being an ass." 

"Oh, the hell you aren't. Look, in this situation, he knows twice what we could ever come up with about tactics. So stop with the smart ass remarks." 

"Or what?" The two Novices stopped at a narrowed part of the path where the cliff edge was a sheer hairpin turned wrapped around a jutting piece of rock. 

"Or that suppressive fire he mentioned just might not be aimed toward helping you. Go." 

"What?" 

"Go!" Desmond made a shooing motion with his hands, palms down, flicking his hands away from him. "Put your loud mouth to use and get their attention." Lex stuck his tongue out at him before heading around the small ledge. "Oh, very mature." Whatever insult was tacked onto the end of that was lost to the Sparrow as he trotted toward the river. 

He didn't have to go far to find the guards. They dropped down toward him from another overhang of rock. The small Assassin backpedaled and held up his hands. 

"Whoa! The Master sent me to tell you something." The men stopped. Surprised that the trick worked, he said the first thing that came to his tongue. "A shoe on all your heads!" He turned and slipped on the loose gravel beneath his feet, landing hard. Lex yelped as a sword came down at him, rolling out of the way and dragging himself onto his feet again, the guard pounding after him. "Dessy! I think I pissed 'em off!"

He backed up against the rock face when he reached the narrow ledge, eyes flicking from the mind-slaves drawing their weapons to the sharp drop into the water below. "Dessy?" He glanced over his shoulder. Desmond was gone. _Oh, shit._ "Uh..." He turned back to the guards following him, one leaning around the rock and looking at him. "Would now be a bad time to ask if any of you guys are named Steve?" Lex jerked away as a blade came for him, the sword clanging against the rock as his foot left the solid ground. His eyes widened as he flailed for something to grab, even the blade that had been coming for his head. 

A hand snaked out and grabbed his arm as the Assassin guard was given a helping heave-ho over the edge by Desmond, barely missing the dangling boy. _Wait, what the hell's he doing over there?_ Lex staggered as he was pulled back up. 

"Why do I always have to save you?" Jameel snapped and turned up the track again, leading him through the brush toward where the others were. More guards were coming their way, two thick clusters about five or six in number. 

"Yeah, it's a bad habit. You should really look into breaking out of that. Why the hell is Desmond over there?" Lex pointed down to where he'd led the guards before almost falling. Jameel gritted his teeth. 

"I'm only going to say this once. Listen carefully. _It was an ambush._" 

"Oh, so you wanted me to go for a swim? You could've just asked me to scale the Cliffs of Insanity while I was at it." The man rounded on him, almost knocking him over into the guards fighting the Novice and Assassins below them. 

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up! God help you, you're a petulant little child." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes!" 

"Really. Well, y'know what?" 

"No, tell me." 

"You're the idiot who has his back turned!" Lex shouldered Jameel aside and blocked the blade coming for his back with his bracer, catching the hilt with his free hand. Jameel's dagger hilt was rammed into the man's face, his nose crunching as bone split. 

"As nice as this witty banter is, I'd appreciate it if you both stopped acting like fools," said Malik as he kicked a guard in the middle. The man went sliding over the edge and landed with a thump on one of his comrades. Silence reigned as the work of disarming and subduing picked up its pace.

Malik moved with his sword as if he'd been doing it one-handed his whole life, twisting aside those that came for his head and whacking them upside theirs with the flat of the blade or the pommel. Desmond paused to watch snatches of the Rafiq's fight before returning to his own. 

Altair's spawn was giving the guards a run for their money. Each time they moved forward, he brought them back to square one with a jab to the face or a bodily shove that left some of them flat on their backs. One man charged at the Assassin fighting at his side, sword raised, yelling, "For the Master!" 

Desmond's arm met the man's throat first, clothes lining him. The guard flipped in the air and landed on his face in the dirt. 

"Many thanks," said the man who'd come with Malik. He spun quickly. "Behind you!" Desmond nodded. 

"Hold that thought, man. _Shoryuken!_" He wheeled around and caught the last man under the chin in an uppercut that jerked his head backward. He, too, fell on his face. "Hell yeah! Always wanted to do that." The Eagle was forced to jump back as another man landed heavily on the ground where he'd stood. 

Above, the other Assassins were almost through with the guards as well, although their reinforcements made it difficult. Jameel was defending himself well with only an arm and his legs, fighting back to back with Malik. The swordsman was showing his worth. Each man that came at them from his side was easily disarmed with a flick of his wrist and brought down with a kick or strike from the sword. The Red Owl was dropping men with powerful blows from his knees and elbow, breaking a few more bones with his knuckles and braining some unfortunate over the head with his sword hilt. 

Lex was on the defensive, evading blows and blocking them when he couldn't. He gasped as his heels came up against the edge of the cliff again. Flailing out, he twisted himself around and landed on his side, rolling up onto his feet as another swordsman came for him. 

Suddenly, his stance shifted, settling in a half-crouch, one leg stretched out in front of the other, one fist cocked, the other relaxed almost against his leg. The guard paused. Lex pushed forward and up, bringing his heel around against the guard's face, sending him tumbling into the ground. 

He ducked as another blade swished over his head, clipping off some of his hair. He rounded on the man and punched him hard in the mouth, grabbing him by the front of his robes and kneeing him in the gut. Taking his lowered head in both hands, he brought his leg up into the man's face, letting him drop. Panting, he looked around. The men that had come to back up their embattled brethren were on their knees, begging for mercy, swearing up and down to Malik's sword that they didn't know what they were doing there, that one moment they'd been talking to the Master and the next they had the blade to their throats. 

Lex reached up and felt his lip as Desmond made his way up the slope with Malik's man. Blood came away on his fingers. 

"Huh." He looked up as the bartender nudged the body at his feet.

"Damn, kid. You can fight." He didn't receive an answer, the boy still mesmerized by the small cuts and bruises that were now making themselves known to him. Jameel settled his hand on Malik's shoulder and looked at the Novices. The Dai nodded. He went over to the two young men and looked them over. 

Desmond had a few scrapes and a nice cut on the back of his hand, but he would live. Lex had a fat, split lip and more than a few bruises on his arms. It seemed his bracer had taken the brunt of the blows. _As for that little matter..._ Jameel reached over and took the boy's arm as he began to unclasp the weapon from it. 

Lex let his arm drop to his side as the blade's weight was taken from it. He looked up at the Owl, then away again, studying one of the bodies that lay on the ground. He'd taken a nice, heavy hit to the head, blood coloring a nice patch of his gray hood black. 

"Are you listening to me?" He jerked his head up. Jameel held up the bracer. Despite his hard voice, his gaze had softened. "Not yet. Understand? Not yet." Lex nodded, then looked around. Malik and the others were already gone, running back to the keep. 

Making their way back through the village, where a few people were standing with dazed looks on their faces, including Rauf. The three men settled into their stride as they climbed up the mountainside, passing villagers that were equally as dazed and confused as the ones who'd been down in the valley below. Entering the training yard, they halted on the dais. 

Altair was moving down the stairs, carrying Al Mualim's body in his arms. 

Desmond's eyes widened, unable to look away from the sight. Jameel sighed and lowered his head. Lex kept his eyes averted. When the Master Assassin had moved passed them, Jameel walked on. _The Master is dead._ He shut his eyes, but still saw the Eagle, the one he thought of as his brother, walking down the stairs, carrying the one he knew Altair had seen as a fatherly figure in his arms. _The Master is dead._

He glanced over as Lex sat down beside him, silent for once. The Sparrow returned his glance, but lowered his head and kept his peace. He looked up as he felt a hand on his head. Jameel gave it a gentle push, nodding toward the door. Lex nodded and headed out of the room and onto the dais. 

Outside, Altair was carrying Al Mualim's body toward the barbican. Desmond moved away from the fence and began to follow him alongside Lex. Abbas, a bearded man around Altair's age that Desmond had seen in his ancestor's memories who seemed to hate the man with a passion, moved over to the man.

"What has happened here?" he demanded.

"Our mentor has deceived us. The Templars corrupted him," said Altair.

"Where is your proof?" Abbas stepped toward him.

"Walk with me, Abbas, and I will explain." The men moved down the slope, the Novice Eagle trailing after them as Altair explained what Desmond already knew to Abbas. As Altair explained the Apple's power and the hold it had taken over the old Grandmaster, the man grew angrier. The younger man looked up at the pyre that came into view, his throat suddenly tightening up on him. The hairs were standing on the back of his neck.

Altair set Al Mualim's body on the pyre and grabbed the torch from the stand set beside the pyre, setting the wood alight.

"Altair! No!" Abbas shouted when he realized what the man was about, eyes wide.

"I must know that he cannot return."

"But this is not our way!" The man looked genuinely horrified. "To burn a man's body is forbidden!" Desmond looked at Lex as the boy looked up at the words. _Forbidden?_ The smaller Novice thought, his mind racing back to the image that had come to his mind when Jameel told him what happened between him and his brother. His parents trying to get out of the burning house, the little boy forced to watch, unable to save them. _Forbidden…_ No burial, no rest, no peace.

"Defiler!" someone shouted in the crowd that had gathered below the ridge.

"Hear me out!" Altair moved toward the edge and looked down at the crowd. "This body could be another one of Al Mualim's phantoms! I must be certain!"

_Cut his friggin' head off! Then you'll be certain!_ Desmond thought, watching the Abbas move forward as he snarled, "Lies!" The ranting began. "All your life you have made a mockery of our Creed!" _Oh, Christ._ Desmond leaned his face into his hand. "You bend the rules to suit your own whims while belittling and humiliating those around you!"

"You—you're insane!" Abbas looked at Desmond as the barkeep shouted at him.

"Restrain him!" said someone else in the crowd. Abbas jerked his head toward the source of the noise. Altair looked as well.

"Did you not hear him?" added Rauf. "Al Mualim is bewitched!" Abbas moved, shoving Altair. The Master Assassin let out a startled cry as he fell and landed heavily on the ground below, the wind driven out of him. The man took off at a run. The Novices shot after him, only to find their way blocked by Assassins. They were herded backward by draw swords, Altair surrounded as well.

"Don't kill them," Altair ordered as he blocked a strike and kicked a man away. "Only disarm." The Novices sighed and linked arms, ramming one of their opponents as the Assassins that weren't battling them joined them. Civilians quickly got out of the way as blade rang on blade. Desmond picked up one of the swords from the many strewn across the grass and clocked a man with the hilt.

"He's kidding, right?" Lex grunted as he was pushed back against the tree that stood near where Altair battled a ring of men. He gripped the man's arm, keeping the sword away from his face just barely. He slipped out from under the man's pin, the blade biting deep into the wood. Grasping the Assassin's neck, he slammed his face into the tree. Turning, he was faced with, shockingly, more men. He sighed. "Desmond."

"A little busy!"

"When we're done, I need something for this damned headache."

"Stop voicing what all of us are feeling!"

The battle dragged on for a while longer until, "What did I tell you, Altair?" The men looked up at the sound of Abbas' voice. He stood atop the tower, the Apple in his hand.

"Abbas! Stop!" Altair shouted, holding up a hand. The man on the tower spread his arms wide, the device glowing in his hand.

"What did you think would happen when you murdered our beloved Mentor?" Desmond took an instinctive step back. _Shit… _

"You loved Al Mualim less than anyone!" Altair retorted. "You blamed him for all your misfortune, even your father's suicide!"

"My father was a hero!" Abbas waved the words away, voice taking on the touch of a whine. He sounded like a child who stuck his fingers in his ears and didn't believe what anyone said to him, Lex thought.

"This is not the time to quarrel over the past. We must decide what to do with that weapon!" _Punt it into the river,_ the small time traveler thought as the glow began to intensify. _Better yet, dismantle it and blow up the parts._

"Whatever this artifact is capable of, you are not worthy to wield it!" Abbas yelled, jabbing a finger toward Altair. The glow was almost blinding.

"No man is!" Altair hissed. For a moment, the light dimmed. Abbas looked at it.

"Ahhh. It _is _beautiful, is it not?" The glow returned, twice what it had been before. Lex shoved Desmond toward the keep.

"Run, run, run now!" The two took off as Abbas screamed and the thing seemed to explode. A shockwave tossed the Assassins below onto the ground. Altair stood again. Desmond opened his eyes and lifted his head from where he'd been eating dirt, hearing a noise like a jet engine revving up, the crackle of something like electricity shorting. He stood. Another shockwave sent him back onto the ground.

Lex cracked an eye open as he heard a sharp cry. Altair caught a handhold on the side of the tower, knocked back by another wave. The elder Eagle scrambled his way to the top, nearly slipping to the ground each time the thing sent out another pulse. The revving noise started again, but with a sharp "Agh…!" from someone up above in the tower, it ceased, the glowing and pulsing disappeared, leaving sparks like a miniature cloud of lightning to crackle in the air about the structure. Finally, even these faded.

**The story continues. ^^ Hope everybody enjoyed the action. You keep reading, I'll keep writing.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AC, or its characters. Jameel is Krono's. Gilbert belongs to Nessa. The only one I get is Lex.

**Thanks for everybody who commented and read the story thus far. I hope you're still enjoying yourselves up to this point. I also applaud your dedication for slogging through nineteen chapters of Assassin awesome. Please, continue your enjoyment now, good readers and, to blatantly thieve a line from Mr. Toby Turner, bless your faces.**

Masyaf  
>September, 1191<p>

Lex propped himself up on his elbows as he awoke, running a hand through his hair and coming away with downy feathers stuck between his fingers. 

"What in the world...?" he mumbled, blinking at them. _Owl feathers?_ He looked at Jameel. "You sure you don't grow wings in your sleep?" 

"Chandra must've nested in your hair again." Jameel sat up and stretched a little, feeling slightly cramped. His ribs felt stronger than the previous days, almost a week having gone by since the failure of Abbas' coup, and his arm was getting easier to manipulate as well. It was good to have a bit of quiet again, even if this one was still marred with the vestiges of the Grandmaster's death and Altair's rocky ascension to fill the power vacuum that had followed. He wasn't doing it alone either. Malik had returned from Jerusalem to assist their friend, which meant Jameel could focus on getting well again. 

He was glad to be back in his own quarters and out of the infirmary. It had been a chore to get down there the first day and the servants complained of its being so out of the way, practically one of their rooms, almost an alcove in the corner of the building's hall, a ways down from the infirmary. 

So what if it was small? Jameel had thought. It had everything he needed: space enough for a small desk, window, and pallet to sleep on, and was tall enough for him to stand upright in comfortably. So what if he had to duck to get through the door? At least it meant the servants would bash their heads on the lintel if they forgot to do the same. Lex was just about the only person who could come and go without having to worry about head injuries. 

He reached over and plucked a stray feather out of the boy's hair. The Novice had taken to his room easily enough. He'd practically set up shop as if it had always been partly his. The chess set he'd purloined from God only knew where was off to one side of the desk, books scattered between it and the bed. Jameel turned the feather between his fingers. Even his owl had taken a shine to the boy; Chandra had insisted two nights earlier on biting at his fingers until he took the still warm rat from her, and only when he'd pretended to eat had she flown off again into the night. 

Jameel gave his arm another experimental stretch before donning his robes. Lex looked at him. 

"Walk time?" 

"Mm." The Master Assassin nodded as he walked toward the main door of the keep. Lex pulled on his shirt as he followed him out, tying his tunic sleeves around his waist. "I've been neglecting your training again." 

"Your arm's still broken and we've just survived the attempted rise of—"

"I can still give directions nonetheless," interjected the Red Owl. He nudged the boy's side with his own. "I can always give you back to Malik, now that he's here." 

"I call your bluff and raise you having to train Desmond in my stead." The two looked up as the bartender raised an arm in greeting, walking over to them. 

"Somebody sounds like he's ready to kill some Templars again." The Eagle tapped Lex on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the tower. The Novices set off toward it as Malik moved up beside him. 

"What were you saying about me?" 

"Nothing that would interest you very greatly." Jameel watched as the two time travelers climbed up with a few other Novices going to perform the Leap of Faith. 

"I have something that will interest you greatly." Malik looked over at him. "No sighting has been made of the giant Templar. Neither has there been one of these bird men." Jameel nodded, then looked up as one of the Novices commented rather loudly, "Why are you two up here? Haven't you done yours already?" 

"For fun." Lex shrugged. 

"Stretching our legs," Desmond answered as they stepped off the tower and landed in the hay below. He called back up, "You'll have to find another stack to land in!" With that, he buried himself in the straw. Lex snorted and shook his head. 

The Owl shook his head at the barkeep's words. Their skill with the Leap of Faith had improved. Lex hadn't broken anything this time either. _I'll be grounded for a while, but once I heal, I'll be able to fly with them._ He smirked as he watched the two boys from the future, then left off watching for training as Malik went to help herd the rabble down from the tower. 

He chose a spot and stood there, flinging daggers leisurely at the dummies. 

The Sparrow wandered over and watched the daggers fly into their marks. A thoughtful look came onto his face as he let his mind drift. _I lost one of my daggers that way in Acre, lodging it between that man's eyes. And then I took another in the ribs and snapped the blade off._ He laughed to himself as he went over to one of the servants and asked about a drink. A few minutes later, she returned and handed it over. Nodding his thanks, he stared into the cup. _God, what am I now that all I can do is hope he died quickly? What the hell does that make me? Am I a bad person now, that I can kill someone like that?_

The person that gazed back at him wasn't the same boy that had fallen into the Animus, the boy who'd run away from home. The sun had darkened his skin almost to the tone of the other Assassins of Masyaf. His hair was a shade lighter and did damn well look like a nest, tousled and shaggier than before. No wonder Chandra liked it. It would have been knotted and tangled but for Jameel's fingers coaxing out these obstructions when he saw fit to mess with it, which was often. Not that he complained. If showers were a luxurious experience, combs were downright out of his league. His face was leaner than he remembered as well, and the general act of survival had begun the work of toughening up his entire frame. He downed the water in a few gulps. 

Jameel tossed throwing knife after throwing knife, each one hitting the dummy in the head, too immersed to notice Lex watching him. The action repeated: throw knife, hit mark, retrieve, and throw again. He even shut his eyes at one point. The knives found their targets with ease, embedded between the eyes. 

Lex moved over to the dummies and pulled the knives out. He held them out to the Owl. 

"Don't think I'm ever gonna be that smooth at throwing. You could hit in your sleep." Jameel nodded and accepted the knives offered by Lex. 

"At one point, I did." He continued, tossed—"A few guards found my hiding place while I was sleeping and as a reaction the knives were already in their throats."—and retrieved. "Strangest reaction I've ever had." His mind turned over another problem as he moved back into position. _Perhaps I should continue training them how to fight in the dark. It will give them an edge on their enemies. On my enemies..._ Jameel hurled another knife, this time pegging the dummy in the eye. 

Lex slid his hands into his pockets as he followed the knives with his eyes, back pressed against the cool wall out of the sun's direct path. He closed his eyes, swallowing around his heart drumming at the base of his throat. Thoughts wouldn't leave him be this day. It was odd. Almost as odd as the things coming to his mind. 

_If it hadn't been for me running from those guys, I wouldn't be here._ The Novice pushed the thought away. _I won't be like that again._ He shivered, suddenly chilled, as he thought of what might happen if he died here and stopped breathing for a moment. Another thought, more terrifying, surfaced. The thought of what might happen if they found a way home had prodded into his mind. _Mom and Dad... I just left them, but... Jameel..._ He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and willed the thought away as he had with the first. 

Yes, what about Jameel? his mind wanted to know. He smiled to himself a bit, only to have his face burn brightly as turning over the man in his mind brought an image bubbling up with it. Worse yet, his eyes were fixed on the man as his brain conjured up the picture. Lex buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"I need to stop thinking. Shit." 

Jameel stopped throwing the knives and pulled them from their marks, putting them in their respective places on his belt. He walked up to Lex. 

"Thinking too much?" he asked after taking a look around. Everybody was doing something. That included the Eagle's nosey descendant, who liked sleeping in hay bales for some reason. _He should've been called horse if he likes hay so much. Hopefully Altair won't pick up the same habit._ For now, they could converse without being bothered. 

Lex removed his hands from his face and looked up at him slowly, popping his neck as he did. _Oh, yeah, that felt good._ He met his eyes. 

"Yeah, can't shut my brain off." 

"If you want to know if all of this is a dream, you just need to poke me." Jameel leaned against the wall with the Sparrow, looking at him. "I'm very real. Blade and all." His ice blue stare remained softened, not the death stare he'd become prone to giving Lex when he did something dumb. "If that doesn't work, think about the now." 

Lex nodded, focusing on the moment. He leaned his head into Jameel's side as he slipped under his good arm. His eyes slipped shut as he allowed himself to relax. 

"Hey, Jameel?" 

"Yes?" Jameel glanced down at Lex again. Feeling the other male relax against him, he settled back himself. Lex opened his mouth and shut it again. He glanced up at the Assassin, then away. His heart was in his throat, throttling him, face heated under his tan. 

"I—I love you." 

Jameel stared at him, shock, then understanding, registering in his gaze. Yes, he had said that. He thought of the reasons why Lex would say that, then thought of what the Sparrow had said before when he kissed him. Jameel briefly reasoned with himself. The Red Owl had saved the Sparrow's ass plenty of times, and vice versa. Was that why? Was it because of how he acted in all the situations they'd gotten into? Apart from the extreme circumstances in Acre, he'd been able to make some good, rational choices. No, that couldn't be just it. He thought again for a minute, looking at the boy, his mind turning over what Lex had said. Not just what Lex said, but Lex himself.

It was the little waif who stayed with him when he was recovering from his injuries, who'd taken care of him at one point. It was the Sparrow who followed him, talked with him, the one he had found himself expecting to see earlier and earlier in the day. _Lex loves me._ He smiled. 

"It's mutual." 

Lex smiled widely, warmth spreading through his chest. 

"I'm glad." The Sparrow squeezed his hand tightly. "I'm glad." Jameel grinned and leaned his head back against the wall. It faded as his brain suddenly decided to create ideas on how to get the two men home. _Maybe those Pieces of Eden could get them home. Perhaps something else? What else could get them back other than the Pieces of Eden? This is bothersome. Great, now_ I'm _thinking think too much!_

"Psh. Get down here." Jameel glanced at Lex. "Now your brain's the one overworking. Get down here." The Owl knelt. The Sparrow's tongue darted past his lips as he kissed him. He shut his eyes, arms folding around the taller man's neck as he leaned into him. Jameel returned the kiss, plans forgotten. Right now...well, all that he could think about, all that mattered, was right now. Lex had successfully distracted him. _Sneaky boy. You're learning._

The Novice ran his fingers along his cheek, his other hand wrapped in his hair as he pulled back to breathe. "Better?" He grinned, moving back from him. 

Jameel nodded and was about to say something else when he heard, "Good, you're still here, Novice." The Master Assassin stood and turned to Malik. He wasn't certain what the man had seen, but if it a new rumor spread, he would know which person to interrogate first. "Mind if I borrow him a moment?" The one-armed man raised a brow. "Unless you would refuse a request from Altair. He is your pupil." 

Lex followed after Malik once Jameel nodded. He felt the Red Owl's eyes on his back until they passed down the slope from the barbican. 

"You're wanted in Acre." 

"How much are they putting as a reward?" 

"It is not that kind of want, Novice!" 

"Patience is a virtue." Malik pressed his fingers against his forehead. How much perseverance was Jameel blessed with that he could stand this boy's cocksure attitude for days on end?

"Scout in Acre. We've a man in the city named Aali. The Templar forces have weakened there since the battle at Arsuf, but they've not left yet. Go and tell us what you find." He stopped and looked at Lex. "Jabal told us you and Desmond led the masked men to the Bureau." 

"Why isn't Dessy being sent out with me then?" 

"I would send him as well, but I can't find him. He seems to have found a good hiding place." The Dai gave him another long look. "And Lex. Do not screw this up."

Acre  
>Late September, 1191<p>

The Novice slowed and crouched, looking down at the knights that manned the port's gates. Jabal, after much asking, had said that he would find this man of theirs in the port district. He didn't say specifically _where_, but the docks were as good a start as any. Taking a step forward, he dropped into the hay cart below and hopped out, slipping into the crowds and heading into the shipyard. 

He almost made it to the docks unmolested. Except... 

"Please, sir, do you have any money?" _God, why have you forsaken me?_ "Please, just a few coins!" The woman wrung her hands as she spoke. "My family is sick and dying." He sighed and made to tell her that he was for all intents and purposes the Assassin version of a penniless sitar player, but she grabbed him by the hood and shook him. "Don't you understand? I'm poor and sick and hungry!" 

"Get off of me!" He wrenched himself backward and almost toppled. Catching hold of something, he stopped himself. Unfortunately, that something was a Teutonic uniform. 

"_Was ist los mit dir du scheissdummer Junge?_" snapped the man. 

"Um...ah...ahaha..." Lex laughed, feeling some of his tan drain as the blood left his face. He rubbed the back of his head. "Th-That is..." 

"A stuttering problem, yes?" the man growled in thickly accented Arabic. 

"Yes!" Lex nodded, smiling widely. _Smile and nod. Smile and nod. He'll let me go. Just agree with everything he says._ Looking up, he blinked before switching to slow German. "_Es—es tut mir leid, Herr. Ich—Ich bin dumm, nee?_"

Gilbert grinned as he, too, recognized whom he was speaking with. He passed the woman a coin and sent her on her way. 

"All right, boy. When you've found your balance, I would advise to get off the harbor as quick as your feet will bear you," he said in the boy's tongue. He tugged his uniform to bring it back into order. How old was this boy anyway, sixteen or seventeen? He couldn't have so much freedom as to wander about the docks willy nilly. He scratched at his blonde beard, green eyes flicking over the little sage. 

"Sorry for snapping at you, boy. Tense atmosphere and grumpy new commanders." He made a face, not quite a sneer, more one of exasperation. "Anyway, where did you learn to speak my tongue?" 

"There are many traders." He smiled. Language lessons paid off. "Your men, they..." He bobbed his head from side to side. "You know. And the scholars have many stories to tell, to bring back to Europe." He bowed quickly. "_Dankeschoen noch mal, Herr, fuer..._" He straightened, shrugged. "_Vielleicht, fuer mein Leben, und fuer das meines Lehrers. Ich wuensche Euch Sicherheit und Frieden, Herr...?_" He paused in turning toward the gates, waiting for the man's name. Again, the man couldn't help grin. There was just something about the boy's formality that was like a child trying to convince the parent to let him get away with his stolen sweets with his hand still attached. 

"The name's Gilbert, boy. No need to call me _Herr_ or whatever else those haughty bastards like to hear." He turned his head toward the harbor's entrance. "_So eine verdammte..._" The rest of his curses turned to an unintelligible snarl. The roving patrols were early today. His eyes went to the boy. "Duck and stay quiet if you love life." He gave the boy a fierce jostle when he didn't respond quickly enough, which sent him down onto the planks. Shedding the mantle from his shoulders, he tossed it over Lex so nothing of him could be seen. For once, he was glad they were made to wear the ridiculous things day and night. They were said to make the guards appear more frightening. Gilbert was just glad the rug had come to some use. _Hopefully the boy remains still, or else he'll face punishment as well._

After what seemed an everlasting span of time, the danger moved out of sight, but from the glare the elder patrolman had given him, Gilbert knew in the evening he would at least receive a scolding from his superior for having changed his attire on his own volition. 

When he took up his mantle again, the boy stood with a swiftness Gilbert wouldn't have held him capable of achieving. He was red faced and breathing heavily. "Damned uncomfortable, these rugs, eh? Didn't mean to suffocate you. _Und nun mach, das du wegkommst._" Lex nodded and made himself scarce.

The Sparrow waited out the rest of the day in the Bureau, the brunt of Jabal's snide remarks. None of his pigeons had been harmed, thankfully, so words were all the old man gave him, which Lex countered at every opportunity with, "You shall not pass!" The star spangled nightscape that was Acre after sunset made his jaunt across the rooftops almost enjoyable. The water lapping at the docks was a soothing white noise as he crouched atop the last roof before the harbor and listened. And listened. He sighed. It was just gambling talk, one speaking to the other of how many women he'd plundered. 

"Hoo hoo." 

"_Was war das?_" 

"Hoo hoo," Lex hooted again. 

"_Eine Eule?_" The one guard moved off as the remaining man looked around. 

"_Nein, es ist ein Spatz,_" Lex responded, throwing his voice to make it sound as if it came from the nearby docks. 

"_Spatze machen nicht: hoo!_" 

"_Hier, ja._" 

Gilbert looked up at the sound of a strange bird's call as he walked along the harbor toward the gates. He'd received a good reprimanding, he decided to cool his anger in a tankard at the little tavern the knights had set up just outside of the harbor. Otherwise, he would have taken up his other plan of brawling with some of the bragging imbeciles out and about as he'd done two weeks before. It had earned him two days of incarceration. 

Wait, that wasn't a bird. He listened again after hearing the second hoot. Strangely, it sounded much like the boy he'd met again that afternoon. Gilbert bit down on his bottom lip to pin his laughter in his mouth as he heard the conversation the guard was having. This was more than just funny. This was... Was there a word for what this was? He knew he wasn't blessed with the most ingenious of brains, but these dumb posts standing watch were more than just plain stupid. 

He nodded to the men scouring their location for the source of the noise and greeted, "_Ja, ja, es gibt schon komische Voegel in Acre._" With that, he headed toward the city, glad that the darkness hid his broad grin. If his suspicions proved correct, he'd invite that little scholar for a beer for making his evening a little cheerful. 

Spotting the tall man moving toward the innards of the town, Lex grinned and dropped down from his perch, walking up beside him. He laughed, "Hey, Gilly. _Es ist eine schoene Nacht, nee?_" _So, I wasn't mistaken._ The man turned to the boy, lifting a brow at the odd little tic he added onto the end of his questions. He'd done so twice now. _Must be something from his own tongue he adds in without thinking._

"_Ich gruesse dich, Spaetzlein._" He switched back to Arabic. "Yeah, a good night it is. Thank you for giving me a good laugh. I can well imagine those stupid assholes bragging of having heard the mysterious, blood thirsty, hooting night-sparrows in the morning." The tall German gave a deep, warm laugh, his blonde hair bound up in a long braid swinging back and forth behind him. "But don't get yourself caught, _Spaetzlein_. They would do worse with you than just snapping that little neck of yours." He settled a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Can't always be there to give you cover, can I? In any case, mind having a beer with me? You seem much more pleasant company than those brethren of mine. Most of them, anyway." 

Lex followed after him as they began walking again, his eyes on the man's back, the long rope of hair swinging between his shoulders. Did he suspect what he was? Had he given himself away as an Assassin? If so, either he would be killed for compromising the Brotherhood, or this man would do so because he was the enemy, or, worse, he might have to end the man's life before he could tell or be made to tell anyone. But if he knew he was an Assassin, why wouldn't he have told someone already? 

His thoughts whirling, he nodded, "Alcohol sounds like a good cure for bad company." He folded his arms as they went. "And who says you'd need to be there to give me cover?" 

Gilbert looked down at the boy at his side. He cleared his throat and spoke seriously, voice devoid of the cheerfulness it had taken on minutes before, "Boy, you may be pretty swift and know your ways around here, but the sooner you stop prancing around a place full of easily irritated, bored, armed men, the safer you will be. If you don't, the question is not if you will be killed but in what manner and how messy that manner will be." He shook his head. "Hell, they gutted an old man not so long ago for nothing else than being clad in a white tunic." He gave a snarl, giving vent to the built up spleen of the last few weeks. "And then they are wondering why we Templars are so unwelcome here. We are knights, not hired henchmen. What is all this slaying of innocent men for?" 

His eyes fell on his companion again. "Can you imagine it, that the Grandmaster saw himself threatened by an order of mysterious, hooded men?" Gilbert scratched his head, sighing. How had the old lunatic called them? "Anyway, I won't believe in these ghosts until I meet one personally, and if I do so I will thank him for giving old Sibrand a knife between the ribs. I would have asked him to give the blowhard a good punch on my behalf, too." His eyes darted from side to side as he said this, checking for any man who might have been eavesdropping and would report to the commander. He added in a hushed tone as they entered the tavern, "Things were bad enough when that crazy fool was in charge, but they've only become worse, if you'd want my humble opinion on the matter." 

The two newcomers took their seats at one of the tables. Gilbert waved to the barkeep and held up two fingers. "Well, I never did ask you your name, boy. Can't keep calling you _Spaetzlein_ forever, can I?"

Lex smiled as the man ranted away to him, jumping briefly when a tankard of beer was slid his way. He was about to say that he couldn't drink as he was underage, but remembered himself in time and answered the man's unasked question: "Lex. And you can if you want. I don't mind a nickname." He lifted the mug in both hands and took a healthy swig. Most of which came spraying back out as he coughed. "Agh...that burns!" It did burn, going down and coming halfway back up. He coughed again. "These ghosts must be good, if they can do all they say they've done. You must hear..." He cleared his throat. "You must hear how the people talk of their deeds at your post." 

"Not as good as the brew we make at home, but it is better than nothing." The German Templar grinned as he watched the boy handling his drink. He emptied his own halfway in one draught. "If you knew how much nonsense I've had to listen to since I was assigned as guard in the harbor! Some of the others are better at gossiping than a room full of old women." He rolled his eyes and prodded the lad's chest. "And I bet you tomorrow there will be a lot of talk about hooting sparrows thanks to you." 

Putting his right arm on the table, Gilbert leaned on his arm and eyed the boy. Lex glanced at the mug held firmly in his left hand. _Huh. Wow. Someone who's left-handed. An honest to God lefty. I haven't seen one of you in forever._ He'd become used to the odd sort of movements of the Assassins—the right-handed sword thrusts and the left-handed jabs with the Hidden Blade at the moment he went to block the strike by the bigger blade. He'd actually begun to wonder if everyone in this time period was ambidextrous. "But what is an evening off without a good story to hear? I've only had a few chances to talk with the locals here. So, tell me about these ghost people of yours." 

Lex took his time digesting the fact that Gilbert had taken him, was still taking him, for a native of the Holy Land. It almost made him laugh. _I'm not that tan, am I? Is my accent still there? Hell, can I even speak English anymore? Dessy and I don't even speak English together anymore!_ He turned the mug between his fingers, took another sip, and grinned around the rim. There was nothing wrong with adding a little ham to the spicy mythos surrounding their lives already, was there? 

"Your book tells of King Solomon as well, doesn't it? How he spoke to the birds of the air?" Okay, maybe ham was an understatement. The first thing out of his mouth was literally of Biblical proportions. "There was another who could do this as well, the Old Man of the Mountain. Charmed them straight from the brush and sky he did, and asked them to become his elite warriors. In return, he promised them the things envied among the common man: a potent herb that wreaths a man in the green smoke of God, wine poured by the very _houris_ themselves."

Lex realized that he wasn't just being Biblical now that he'd brought the Qur'an into things, but the words continued. He blamed the alcohol. "This is why they move as ghosts, for their feet are built to hop along the rooftops and crush prey between their talons and they remember the feeling of the air beneath their arms, as they were once wings. And you will never know these men in a crowd, for when they wish"—he made a waving motion with his hand, closed his fist, then opened it again—"poof! at once they may change back into their natural forms, from bird to man and back again as suits their purpose. You'll be chasing one along, having him square between your eyes and then..." He met Gilbert's eyes. "Gone."

"Well, well," the man chuckled. "_Eine gute Geschichte, Spaetzlein._ So old Sibrand was afraid of freaking birds able to shape shift into men." The knight laughed, slamming his fist on the table. "Ha! Sounds more likely to me that old King Redbeard is going to awaken from his slumber under the mountain and join the fighting again." He smiled. "But thank you for sharing your people's legends with me, so I will know what I see when I meet one of your ghosts." The two started as a protesting shriek was heard behind Gilbert. One of the maids was pushed into a corner by another Templar guard, his hand buried up to the wrist down her dress front. 

Gilbert let out an angry, growled word and stood to his full height. Swift as any of the Assassins, he was behind the hapless man and had him around the neck, pulling him toward him. "_Lass Sie in Ruhe du bloeder Hurensohn, wenn du deine Zaehne behalten willst,_" he hissed. The other man said something which Lex didn't catch, but he released the woman, spat at the tall man's feet, and left the bar as quickly as he could. 

After bowing to the woman and apologizing for his comrade's behavior, he sat himself down by the Sparrow again. "And they wonder why we're so little liked here." Lex nodded, swirling the remaining beer in his tankard, although the comment seemed more for the Templar himself than him. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. _Right._

"Hey, thanks again for the beer." He set the mug down and headed for the door, waving. "Safety and peace." Hearing the man say something and feeling his footfalls behind him, he stepped up his pace enough to get through the door as a crowd of soldiers came in with the changing shifts. 

When Gilbert pressed through the huddle, the boy was nowhere in sight. He frowned as, when he looked about for him down the streets and up toward the rooftops, something caught his eye. Something that made him shiver and cross himself. A feather lay in the light cast by the tavern's open doorway. He picked it up and examined it carefully. It was one of the long, gray-brown tail feathers of a sparrow. 

His mind argued that it couldn't be, but surely he knew the little bird that was common enough in his homeland as well as here. Gilbert shook his head. 

"You have to stop drinking," he told himself, "or your mind will snap, too, that is for sure." He scanned the immediate area again, but the boy seemed to have dissolved into thin air. _Maybe the story he told did contain a grain of truth._ He shrugged and turned in the direction of his quarters. _If I stand here any longer, I will really start seeing ghosts._

X x X

"You've gotta be kidding me," Lex groaned as he finally met the infamous Aali. Jabal responded by telling him to get out of the Bureau and on with the mission. Which was to aid Aali in eliminating his target. The man made it no easier by his ranting about ranks. 

"I outrank you," he said to the Novice once they'd made their way across the rooftops toward the section of the city in which the targets had last been seen. "So you'll do as I say, Novice." He'd bounded off, leaving Lex to trail in his wake and mutter that he was going the wrong direction. 

The night had been calm thus far. Not a single disturbance, no cry from any night bird. Gilbert's thoughts wandered as he patrolled. The night shifts were far more enjoyable to him than the guard duty of the day. The cool air did him good. It was far better than the relentless, burning sun. The sun had done its work of dying his skin to the shade of leather, if not yet the feel, and lightening his hair to an even paler shade of blonde, even if he'd looked similar to a cooked crab a half a year ago after his first two weeks of patrol. 

He glanced skyward and sighed, playing with the feather he'd found outside the tavern. Time to start the second shift of the night. He strode along the streets, feet thudding a constant, quick tattoo, relying on his ears more than his eyes. It was the noises that caught his attention, the mumbled voices that spoke in the people's tongue. Or was his mind playing tricks on him? His hand tensed, ready to get hold of the hilt of his sword as he slowed to a halt, gazing into the darkness ahead. 

Aali frowned as he stared back at the guard that was looking their way. The Novice had given them away! He'd make sure to report to the boy's master when this was over. Unsheathing his Hidden Blade, he moved through the shadows toward the hulking figure. 

Behind him, Lex's eyes widened. In an instant, the Novice was in motion, launching himself into the air in two strides and tackling the Assassin down. He punched him hard in the lower back and then between his shoulders, legs gripping his waist as he clamped one hand over his mouth, arm barring his throat. 

"I will snap your neck if you think about moving again," he hissed into Aali's ear. 

Gilbert stood still, listening. The noises came from somewhere behind him, but what was being said he couldn't tell. For a moment, his common sense raged a hard battle against his conscience, but the latter remained victorious. He sighed and did something ill advised if one wanted to lead a long and safe life as a guard. 

"_Wer da?_" he yelled and turned toward the direction of the voices, hoping this wasn't going to be another nerve-wrecking meeting with a drunken merchant. They always got so pesky when they learned where he was from, even when he only intended to help them on their way out of his vicinity. God only knew why. 

Aali jerked and twisted in Lex's grip, muttering against his hand and biting at it. Lex squeezed harder against his throat, gritting his teeth.

"I'll kill you here and now, Creed be damned. Stop it! That hurts, idiot!" 

"Who is making all that noise?" A rough, slurring voice with a Norman accent called. Slight bickering followed the question, and following that came two captains. "Well, if it isn't our little trouble maker," the man said, addressing the German. Gilbert considered laying him flat for a moment. After all, the man only came up to his chest. "Crying for your mother, are you? Or have you been seeing ghosts?" His comrade laughed loudly. 

The guard kept his mouth shut and reminded himself that giving these two braying jackasses a good bashing wasn't worth the punishment it would incur. Two months alone in a small cell would be the least of his worries if he did. 

"Just doing my duty, sir," he said stiffly. 

"Then try doing it somewhere else, dumbass," barked the drunk man, giggling as he looked to his friend, both stumbling toward where the noises had been coming from before the silent night had been shattered with their braying. The man smiled to himself. _Take care with whatever awaits you in the darkness. I hope it has a lot of fun with you two._ He resumed his patrol. 

Lex felt the sweat rolling like drops of ice water down his neck as the two drunken captains stumbled by where he lay atop Aali. Ducking his head down, he held the man close as he could and kept quiet. A boot missed his arm. Then the two were stumbling on. 

"That's them, fool! Let me up," muttered Aali. 

"Uh-uh." Lex punched him across the head and tossed him into the nearest hay cart, following the targets. He drew one of the throwing knives from his belt and loosed. The little blade tumbled through the air and sliced across the snickering man's shoulder, staining his tunic red. The men turned. 

"Assassin!" they screamed as one, swords ringing free of their sheaths as Lex moved forward, pulling his dagger free from his belt. Blood sprayed in an arc as the boy brought the curved blade across the injured captain's throat. 

From across the docks where he turned to make his way back to the barracks, Gilbert heard one of the drunk's scream. He rolled his eyes. 

"Pff. _Darauf fall ich nicht rein, verarschen koennt ihr euch selber._" If they wanted to play shepherd and wolf, let them, but without him. On impulse, he listened again, eyes closed. No noises came to his ears, no screams, no sounds of battle. Nobody could take out two well-equipped Templar knights, drunken asses or no, so silently. _This only ghosts would be capable of._ He toyed with the feather again, eyes moving to the rooftops to his left.

A small, white-hooded figure shot across the dark skyline and out of sight. The knight startled, almost dropping his lantern. "Gilbert," he muttered into his beard, "_du solltest aufhoeren staendig an solche Maerchen zu denken._" This night was no good for his mind, and if there was one thing the Templar Order didn't need, it was another knight going nuts because of men in white.

X x X

It was his last night in Acre. Hopefully this one wouldn't involve carrying a stunned Journeyman on his back and disposing of two bodies. 

Lex planned to finish off the night as he had the day and the earlier part of his activities: in peace, relative quiet, and solitude. Maybe doing a little posing and tossing out a few of his favorite Batman catch phrases from the rooftops. His robes were long and wide enough to do a Dark Knight impression, weren't they? He circled back toward the docks, hoping to say a goodbye to the friendly Templar before heading for Jabal and telling the old man he was finally out of his hair and on his way home. 

_Home,_ he thought suddenly. _Home to Dessy and Malik, Alty and Jameel. Home to Masyaf._ The Sparrow's thoughts were shattered as he jerked his head up, a shrill noise piercing through his ears. Then he was shoved aside, a woman running passed him. He staggered back, a group of Templars moving after her. 

"God!" he shouted, taking off after them. He pulled ahead and got between the first man and the woman, dagger drawn. The woman took it into her head then to turn and hurry back through the crowd of men, shoving everyone that was in her way out of it. Lex gasped as he was unceremoniously knocked sideways and into the waters of the harbor. He righted himself, only to gasp and flail as someone tightened around his leg and pulled him down. 

The boy scrabbled toward the surface, panic his first reaction. The second was to clamp his hands over his mouth and nose and look down. An old anchor rock, fitted with a new rope, had become tangled around his leg, part of the detritus left by dock workers from unloading their cargo. Someone had been kind enough to shove it off into the water. 

Feeling for his dagger, he found nothing. A fresh wave of panic caught him before he snatched up one of his throwing knives and began hacking at the rope, twisting himself downward and sawing as hard and fast as he could. His lungs started to burn as he worried at the rope, urging him to suck in water into his nose in place of air. Bubbles surged out of his mouth as his descent was brought up short, the collar of his robes pushed painfully against his throat. A second later he was being pulled from the water, gasping down sweet air. 

"_Abend, Spaetzlein._ Didn't expect to see you here so soon. Again." Despite the almost kind words and his gratitude at the German being there, Gilbert's face said one thing to Lex: a rather irate "What the hell are you doing here again?"

The man had been looking forward to the rest of his shift being as eventless as the rest of his night. He hadn't met any ghosts or drunken passersby, a real rarity these days. He had even been headed to the barracks when the splash had made him turn and question what had caused it. Seeing the troubled water and figuring some drunkard had finally spoiled his night—they were as prone to falling into water as fresh caught, wriggling fish—he'd dived in after him.

Seeing just who it was he'd laid out on the pier, Gilbert managed a small smile for the quivering boy coughing up the part of the sea he'd swallowed. He looked frightened enough without an armed man shouting at him. Sheathing his sword, he said, "Trouble seems to like you, Lex. What did you do to be thrown into the sea with that fancy rope of yours?" 

For a time, his only answer was ragged coughing. Finally, when the flame in his lungs had died down, Lex gasped, "Wom—woman. Woman. Chased woman, tried to help."

Gilbert stood and pulled the boy up by an arm until he was able to stand on his feet. He eyed the boy closely. The white of his robes looked to be stained with dried blood. He knew this well enough, having gotten a fair amount on his own tunic and having every pilgrim woman he asked to wash it from Bremen to Jerusalem berate him for it. They'd never gotten the stains completely out. Now that he took a good, hard look at him, the man could see the myriad little blades in his belt as well. 

Gilbert frowned. There had been too many strange incidents involving this boy for his liking for the questions he had to go unanswered. He stepped in front of the boy and held up his hands to show that they were empty. His sword would stay sheathed. As if to prove it, he folded his arms across his chest. 

"So, I see what you told me wasn't a legend of old. The ghost people are real." His tone was very matter-of-fact. He could have said that the sky that night was slightly overcast and it wouldn't have diverted an inch from the way he'd said what he had just then. Lex knew this, but moved backward anyway a few paces. Gilbert continued in the same calm voice, "We may not know each other well, ghost, but you have my word that I won't attack someone who isn't at the full height of his powers. Unlike my comrades, I take the term knight very seriously. You didn't kill me when you could have. I could have let you drown many times now. I think we're even so far, aren't we?" 

This time his sense of service agreed with his common sense in that letting the boy go wouldn't be the smartest decision in his life. Then again, volunteering with the Templars came a close second, maybe even still clung to first on that list. Suddenly, a third voice from the back of his mind told both senses to shut up. This time, Gilbert decided to listen to this new voice. He tilted his head and waited for the Sparrow, who was ducked down and looked even pitifully shorter in his dangling, wet robes, to make the next move. 

"My name isn't ghost. You know that, Gilly." Lex relaxed as he finally got his voice back in working order, though he still shivered from the taste of salt in his mouth and the rough feeling in his throat. He cleared it. "Well, you know what I am, so that means one of three things. I kill you, I don't kill you and get killed by the others, or you come with me." He held up his hands as Gilbert opened his mouth. "_Nein, nein._ I can give you good reasons why you should." 

The man closed his mouth and waited. Lex held up a finger. "The Templars are not the good guys—no offense. They've killed and maimed good men, some of whom I know." He held up a second finger. "The Assassins won't say they're absolving you of any sins to get you to fight for their cause." A third. "Are you really happy here?" A fourth. "Our Creed is a simple three tenets." He held out his thumb and lowered his hand back to his side, swallowing. "We have _Lebkuchen_." 

He flinched when the man started laughing.

"At least you have a lot more humor to use than my comrades in gaining someone to your cause, _Spaetzlein_." Then he was serious again. "If it was just about being happy with what I do that kept me here, I would have left when I was still in Europe five years ago. I swore an oath that binds me here. Breaking it would make me a traitor." He glanced toward the water where he'd fished the boy from. "But I see what you mean by things not being as they should. If you and your fellow..." He rolled the word around his tongue and finally said it in his own language, "_Assassinen_...can give me good proof of the Templars being wrong, I might consider my oath worthless." He looked the boy in the face. "If you can guarantee me that your lot won't kill me on first sight, I will come with you, Lex." He held out his hand. "We have a deal?" 

"Deal." He took his hand and shook it. "But I might have to tie you up for that to happen. Hope you don't mind." Gilbert thought for a short while. 

"_Ach sterben muessen wir sowieso alle mal, die einen frueher die anderen spaeter,_" he muttered and held his hands together before the boy, smirking. "And I hope it's true what you said about _Lebkuchen_."

**Was ist los mit dir du scheissdummer Junge? = What's the matter with you, you damned stupid boy?**

**Es—es tut mir leid, Herr. ****Ich—Ich bin dumm, nee? = I—I'm sorry, sir. I am stupid, huh?**

**Dankeschoen noch mal, Herr, fuer... Vielleicht, fuer mein Leben, und fuer das meines Lehrers. Ich wuensche Euch Sicherheit und Frieden, Herr...? = Thank you again, sir, for… Maybe for my life and my teacher's. I wish for thou safety and peace, Sir…?**

**So eine verdammte... = Such a damn…**

**Und nun mach, das du wegkommst. = And now get yourself gone.**

**Was war da? = What was that?**

**Eine Eule? = An owl?**

**Nein, es ist ein Spatz = No, it's a sparrow.**

**Spatze machen nicht: hoo! = Sparrows don't go hoot!**

**Hier, ja. = Here, yes.**

**Ja, ja, es gibt schon komische Voegel in Acre. = Literal meaning: Yes, yes, there are some strange birds in Acre. Hidden meaning: Yes, yes, there are some weirdoes (meaning the guards) in Acre.**

**Es ist eine schoene Nacht, nee? = It's a beautiful night, huh?**

**Nee = modern German term (shortened from nein), along the lines of "huh?" or "right?" when used at the end of questions**

**Ich gruesse dich, Spaetzlein. = I greet you, little sparrow.**

**Spaetzlein = diminutive of Spatz, literally little sparrow; term of endearment**

**Houris = the female wine-pourers in Heaven described in the Qur'an**

**Eine gute Geschichte, Spaetzlein. = A good story, little sparrow.**

**Lass Sie in Ruhe du bloeder Hurensohn, wenn du deine Zaehne behalten willst. = Leave her alone, you stupid son of a bitch, if you want to keep your teeth in your mouth.**

**Wer da? = Who's there?**

**Darauf fall ich nicht rein, verarschen koennt ihr euch selber. = I won't be fooled by this. How stupid do they think me to be?**

**Du solltest aufhoeren staendig an solche Maerchen zu denken. = Stop thinking of such fairytales.**

**Abend, Spaetzlein. = Evening, little sparrow.**

**Lebkuchen = epic gingerbread cookies, usually made and eaten around Christmas time.**

**Ach sterben muessen wir sowieso alle mal, die einen frueher die anderen spaeter. = All of us have to die sometime, some sooner, some later.**

**Thanks in bunches and lots of raisins and coffee and fluffy owls for Nessa for helping me with all the German. ^^;; What did you lot all think of Gilly? No, it's not advised that you try this on your next mission. Gingerbread cannot win every Templar over, no matter how epic. I hope all of you enjoy the continuing story. As always, you keep reading and enjoying, and I'll keep writing.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **Don't own AC or its characters. Jameel is Krono's and Gilbert is Nessa's.

**Sorry for the long wait. Merry Christmas, dear readers.**

Masyaf  
>October, 1191<p>

The journey was mostly in silence during the daylight hours. Gilbert tried to memorize the landscape, but the days had grown shorter without his noticing. Not to mention sitting on a horse with his hands tied was extremely uncomfortable. 

The nights were spent around the fire for a few hours' rest. During this time, Gilbert would let his thoughts wander. What had he gotten himself into? he asked himself. Was it a wise decision to lay his life in this boy's hands? He had given him his word, but these last years had taught him that promises could be very fragile. 

Nevertheless, he decided on the third night, sooner or later his temper would have overcome his reason and he would have done something awfully stupid, worthy of a nice public hanging. This way he could at least see something of the country so foreign to him before he had to meet his savior. 

"Why're you here?" Lex asked on the fourth night. They were camped at the base of a chain of mountains, having covered a good many miles that day. Both were saddle sore and the young man's tunic, which Gilbert finally noted was not entirely gray anymore but a gray tunic with a white over shirt, was a travel-stained brown. 

"Here? You promised me _Lebkuchen_, boy, or has the sun addled your brain into forgetting that?" 

"No, not _here_," he groaned, gesturing all around them. "I mean _here_ in this land at all." 

"I'm here for my younger sister." Gilbert looked at him. "Do you remember, _Spaetzlein_, how you said that the Assassins do not absolve anyone of their sins? I came so that hers would be." Lex flinched, then frowned slightly, brows furrowing. 

"Why? What'd she do?" 

"She took her own life." The color drained from the lad's face. "A fine man had given her a child and didn't want to accept his responsibilities, and before they could bring him back and force him to do so, my mother found her..." The man broke off, tears streaming down his face. 

Lex moved over beside the tall German, dwarfed as much as with Jameel as he settled an arm around his back. 

"_Ja?_" he prompted softly. 

Gilbert swallowed and found his voice again, "It broke my mother's heart. She feared for my sister's soul, naturally, so when my cousin, Gebrant, said that by joining the Templars the Pope would save my sister's soul, I took the chance." He looked at the boy and ruffled his hair gently. "I swore an oath to them when I was no older than you, _Junge_, to spare my mother anymore grief. Even if I'm not entirely convinced on the matter and my brother thinks I'm bare bones in the desert, I'm here. Do you understand now?"

Lex nodded and stared into the fire until he fell asleep. The Templar smiled to himself and covered the boy with his cloak. _At least his German is improving._ He wasn't entirely sure of his daily spoken Arabic, but the lad had gotten better in the nights they'd been spending together. 

On the fifth day, the horses halting roused the German from his usual, moody thoughts. 

"This is what you call Masyaf, isn't it?" He looked at the huge village through the gateway, the huge castle enthroned on the mountain above. _Impressive,_ he had to admit. Impressive that it had been done and impressive that no one had found it yet. At least, no one alive. It was the city of the ghosts for him. The boy nodded. 

Lex tugged at the reins and led them through the gates. Dismounting at the stables, he helped Gilbert down and led him on through the village. The guards and villagers stopped as he walked passed, the Novice half their size leading a giant Templar. Gilbert felt hostile eyes on him as he was led through the village and up the slope of the mountain. He didn't blame the villagers, really. They must have heard, as he had, of the fell deeds his Order had done. So much for the safety and peace so propagated by the Templars. 

The young Novice swallowed, uneasiness growing a lump in his throat as the bend in the path that led to the barbican came into view. He gasped as he was picked up from his feet and deposited heavily back onto them. Gilbert nearly stumbled and fell as the boy leading him was brought roughly away, looking at a tall, hooded figure in white. Very tall, really. Gilbert could look him in the eye-no, not quite right. Gilbert could look him in the eye if he looked up just a bit. 

Was this the boy's father? he wondered. 

"What's going on? Why did you bring this Templar here?" Jameel asked, keeping his hands where they were on Lex's shoulders. The boy seemed to be all in one piece, if in need of a bath. Both the Templar and the young Assassin looked it, really. He spied the ropes and raised a brow, an almost disbelieving noise escaping him. "Is he your prisoner?" 

"Not a prisoner." Lex shook his head. "Just appearances. Hiding him in plain sight. He wants to join us." Jameel frowned, fixing the Sparrow in his gaze. 

"What reason did he give to leave his own Order?" 

"He said if we could prove the Templar cause wasn't just he'd forfeit his oath to them." 

"And you believe him in this?" 

"He only swore the oath to save his sister's soul." The older man folded his arms in thought. 

"Fine." He settled a hand on Lex's head and ruffled his hair. "Take him to Malik. He's in the library." 

"Where's Altair?"

"Gone on a mission. Malik serves in his stead." The Red Owl rolled his eyes as Lex started laughing. "Yes, yes, he has sent the Novices running laps around the tops of the walls. You won't miss anything, though. He's bound to do it again soon enough." He pressed a hand to Lex's back and pushed him toward the slope again. "Go on. And for all our sakes, get yourself and that man to the baths after!" 

Malik looked up as the Sparrow moved into the room. Behind him looked to be one of the biggest Templars the Hawk had ever seen. 

"Malik Al-Sayf, Gilbert von Bremen," said the boy. "He wants to join us." 

"This man wants to become an Assassin." Malik snapped the book shut. "And you led him to our home, Novice." 

"Well, yeah. I don't think Novices can make other people Novices." Malik eyed the boy after the smart remark. The mission was successful, or so it seemed, if he had come back with a recruit or prisoner. 

"You won't be a Novice for much longer. I hope you're prepared to lose that finger of yours." The Dai blinked as Lex curled his fingers down against his palm. Obviously, he was one of the few not willing to lose any digits. "You're still going to be a Novice to me, Sparrow." 

"Everyone's a Novice to you, _Ya Malik_." The two shared a smile at the joke until Malik waved him on. 

"Go on then, and don't prove my trust misplaced. It would be a shame for Altair to have to mount your head on a spike just because of your new Novice. There would go a second Grandmaster." Lex laughed and shook his head, leading Gilbert down the hall to find a set of robes for him. As the man searched through the tunics and pants for ones that fit him, he ran back and looked at Malik. 

"_My_ Novice?" 

"Your Novice." Malik smirked as Lex turned silently and walked back to the room. The two men came trooping back later and out the door into the training yard, where Jameel waited against one wall. 

"Well? What did he say?" 

"Gilly's staying." 

"Gilly?" 

"Gilbert von Bremen," Lex indicated the German who was studying the various training implements littered around the yard. "It's a mouthful. Gilly's easier." He swallowed. "Hey, Jameel, Malik said that...I'm not going to be a Novice for very much longer. That I should be prepared to lose my finger..."

"You'll be getting a Hidden Blade of your own, be able to have your own Novices." Jameel was grinning so hard it looked like his face was going to be sore the next morning. "You've been promoted!" He leaned down and held Lex's face between his hands, kissing his head and ruffling up his hair. 

"Jameel, Jameel, that's great and all, but I'd like to keep my hand whole!" Lex stammered, half-laughing and half-panicked. 

"That's only when you're an official Assassin," Jameel explained as they began to walk along the path toward the tower. 

"So, what, when I'm a Master schalack goes my friggin' finger?" Lex snapped, paling. 

"A little before becoming a Master, actually." Jameel smirked at the sour look the little Journeyman was giving him. "What?" 

"So, I can go outside Masyaf on my own, teach Novices of my own, and look forward to getting my finger cut off. What else is new for me?" 

"Your own stock of throwing knives and a sword." 

"Oh." Lex stopped, looking up at Jameel. "Shouldn't we be heading toward the armory then?" Jameel looked around. 

"Yes, we should." The two looked at each other and laughed, heading back down and into the keep. Lex began filling his belt with throwing knives. Jameel handed him the longswords, helping him test their weight until Lex finally settled on one and sheathed it. 

"How do I look?" Lex looked up at him. Jameel reached over and tugged his hood up by the beak. "Hey!" He pushed it back down, laughing as Jameel drew him close again. 

"It's your move, little bird." Lex looked over his shoulder as the Red Owl walked out through the robing room. Jameel returned the look. "Whenever you're settled in with your Novice. And yes, I did keep up our little game." 

Lex hurried out to help Gilbert get settled in and acquainted with everything. When he landed on the ground in front of the dais, he found Desmond already hard at work with the man, the two throwing a few light punches as they moved around in the training ring. 

The young Journeyman watched until they finished moving about, his eyes fixed on the marks on the German's back where there was a bevy of fresh bruises and the marks left by a whip's kiss. 

"Really, guys? Really?" Lex asked, leaning against the fence. Desmond looked at him and laughed. 

"Yeah, really. We're showing off for all the guys like you." The bartender pulled his robes back on and threw a lazy punch toward the younger time traveler's head. Lex evaded easily.

"Please, you look like an overcooked hot dog." He turned his attention to his Novice. "How're the robes treating you?" 

"_Sehr gut, Spaetzlein,_" said the German. The fabric of his new attire weighed only lightly on his skin; the robes felt much better than the stifling armor he had been wearing up to that point. Desmond took a seat on the fence and watched them. Gilbert finished strapping on his belt and continued, "So, now I would be very thankful if you could give me some explanation of what I've gotten myself into since I haven't got the slightest clue." 

"You're my Novice now. I'm going to be the one teaching you the Assassin ways." Lex made a face as Desmond chuckled. "Yeah, I got promoted. What's so funny about that, Horse?" 

"Did you just call me Horse?" The Eagle looked at him. 

"Haystack Boy sounds better? Maybe you'd be outside of Masyaf if you did something besides sleep." Lex clapped his hands together, making Desmond and Gilbert both jump. "Well, we'd better start your training then. First thing's first: let's test your fear of heights!" He grinned and went up the small rise to the tower. Gilbert watched as he scurried up and waved to them from the top. "_Komm her!_" 

This wasn't what the Novice had expected, but he moved after his mentor and climbed up to the top. He was glad for spending his childhood in the harbor in Bremen where the sailors had given him the odd lesson on how to scramble up the rigging. He was sure he didn't look as elegant with his movements as the Sparrow, but Gilbert made his way up in a rather short time. 

He lifted a brow as he finally stood at the top as if to say "What next?" 

"Remember those three simple tenets I mentioned before?" Lex walked in a circle around him. "The first tenet of our Creed: do not spill the blood of the innocent. Second, work with discretion. Third, do not compromise the Brotherhood." He stopped, facing Gilbert. "What is the first tenet?" 

"Do not shed innocent blood." He took a step back. 

"The second?" 

"Work with discretion." Another step. 

"The third?" 

"Do not compromise the Brotherhood."

"Good. And what do you need to accomplish all this?" The German looked puzzled. The boy closed his eyes and leaned back, back into the open air. Gilbert lunged forward, but the Sparrow had already disappeared over the edge of the plank he'd been standing on. The Novice peered over the edge. 

Lex was dropping, completely relaxed. He flipped twice before landing feet first in the hay bale that, from the height he was at, was very far below. "Have a little faith, Gilbert!" The man could have sworn the young man was grinning like a madman. "_Komm her jetzt! Spring dich!_" 

The wind was blowing into the German's face, but when he began to look down, fear held him in place. He didn't want to fail, not this first test. _What did the boy say? Just have a little faith?_ He looked up. He had made it this far, although there had been several times death had not been far away from him. So, if this was what was destined for him, he could not fail in it. 

Closing his eyes, he thought back to his childhood again, remembered how he and his brother Tancred used to jump from the tops of the ships into the sea again and again. He took a breath and made that last step. 

The falling felt like being totally free from the earth itself. _Now I understand why he referred to birds when speaking to me of these men._ When he managed to scramble from the bale of hay, he had a broad grin fixed on his face. 

"That was great. I haven't felt such a thrill since I was a boy. Can we do that again?" 

"Sure." Lex headed off and waited for his student at the top of the wooden watchtower. 

"You mentioned this Order has something to do with birds, didn't you?" Gilbert asked once he took a seat beside Lex. His mentor was swinging his legs in the air below their perch. 

"Yeah. Everybody seems to have a thing for them here. I'm the Sparrow. The man we ran into before outside the keep is the Red Owl." He slipped off the seat and into the hay below. "And Malik, the man from inside, is the Hawk." 

"And the Red Owl is your mentor?" Gilbert sat up and began picking hay out of his long hair as Lex leaned back his heels, arms folded. 

"Yup." He balanced on one foot. "How'd you guess?" The former Templar scratched his beard and followed after the smaller man as he made his way toward the barbican once again. 

"Hm. Just had a feeling and made a guess." Gilbert followed Lex up to the training ring. Desmond nodded to him on the way inside, Jameel on the way out, mouthing, "Desmond can read!" Lex pulled a shocked face, shaking his head and laughing silently as he climbed inside the ring and drew his sword. He leaned back on his heels again and looked at the German, tapping the blade against the side of his foot.

Gilbert went to the training rack and selected one of the swords there, stepping over the fence into the ring. He straightened his back, then gave a silent signal that he was ready. Lex danced forward, then back as Gilbert swung at him. He ducked as another pass was made for his head, twisting aside from a thrust. 

Lex stilled, waiting. The longsword was heavier in his hands than his daggers, throwing him off balance. Gilbert's left hand clenched around his sword's hilt. Time to try something different. He stepped forward, feigning a blow. When the Sparrow evaded the blade, Gilbert took the moment to change hands. 

The second blow met the Sparrow's sword, metal resounding on metal, and the force behind it as well as his awkward stance with the blade threw the small Assassin onto his back. Lex stood back up, dusted off his robes, and then shifted his stance, placing one foot farther back, half-crouching as he held the blade as if it was sheathed. Gilbert's frowned at the odd stance. 

The lad unleashed a quick flurry of blows. Gilbert blocked the majority of them, but staggered when the form suddenly shifted; Lex was using the moves Jameel had shown him now, moving like the other Assassins, stronger, deeper slashes. It changed again when Gilbert began to find his footing once more. Now he was faced with the swordplay of the Crusaders themselves! 

Driving the smaller man back, the Novice sought to drive the Journeyman to his knees. Lex gave way, causing Gilbert to stumble forward. The blonde man jerked himself backward as the sword slashed in an upward arc toward his belly, only to double his backpedaling when it was swung hard toward his chest sideways. The American wasn't sure what Jameel would have done if he'd seen him using the weapon like a baseball bat and golf club, but it was an effective enough decision, and scared the hell out of his opponent, or at least startled him. Lex couldn't tell from the wide eyed look of the German's eyes. 

_Where did he learn to fight like this? Old Sibrand was right to fear these men if even the boys who're just barely out of being Novices can fight like this,_ he thought as he pushed his mentor away again. Gilbert moved forward, only to grunt as he fell on a knee, the toe of Lex's boot connecting with the back of it. 

"Got yourself a terrible student I would say, Lex," the tall German said when he stood up again. 

"What, are you kidding?" Lex shook his head and grinned. "You're great already, man. I was on the-" He stopped when he took a direct, focused look into the man's eyes. His left eye was a milky white in the center. His mouth fell open, mouthing soundless words until he managed, "Blind. You're blind in that eye." Gilbert shook his head. 

"Nay, it works, but it is much weaker than the other." He shrugged. "It hasn't bothered me much since I mainly did my patrolling at night and stood guard in the daytime." He grinned. "At least I am still pretty good against a boy with two good eyes, though I fear not very useful for this career now." 

Lex tore a strip from his tunic and handed it to the man. 

"Put that over your good eye."

"Why shall I do this?" asked Gilbert, feeling foolish as he obeyed his teacher's orders, tying a knot fast behind his head. 

"To make sure you're strong on your bad side." Gilbert sighed. He had learned to adjust since his eye was injured by a splinter at ten, but this dimmed sight was annoying. Lex picked up his sword and began to hum a tune to himself. He tapped their swords together. He tapped again, harder this time, adding the ring of metal to the tune. 

The fight began in earnest. The Novice quickly picked up on his opponent's humming, metal striking metal repeatedly. They traded blows, Lex's humming slowing until it had stopped completely. The only song that played was that of their swords. Finally, Lex broke away with a final parry, catching Gilbert's arm. 

"We'd better get cleaned up." The Novice stripped off his blindfold and followed his mentor to the baths. The two quickly scrubbed themselves clean, clothes and all, and headed back outside. "I'll see you in the morning, Gilly. Get some rest, okay?" Lex said when they were at the barbican again, turning on his heel and heading inside. 

Gilbert sighed. Alone again. He looked up as he heard a whistle. The man from before, Desmond, pointed toward the haystack. The German raised a brow. 

"There's enough hay for both of us." The other brow rose to join its sibling. "No, not like that!" 

Inside, Lex walked down the hall, stripping his shoes and socks off by the time he reached the door. He reached over after a glance at the board and moved one of his knights, pulling off his wet robes and crawling onto the pallet. Fingers twisted into his hair; he reached over and did the same. 

The taller man bent his head, kissing him and holding it until they were forced to part for air. Jameel pulled the little Journeyman close as Lex nestled his head beneath his chin. 

"Hey." 

"Hm?" 

"Your move."

**The next chapter will be up soon.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** AC is Ubisoft's; Jameel is Krono's; Gilbert is Nessa's.

**Shout out to Tobi: Thanks for the review! Looking forward to the art.**

Masyaf  
>October, 1191<p>

The crackle of a book's spine disturbed the early morning air of the room. Jameel's eyes skimmed over the swirling writing, right, left, right, left before the page was turned again. One hand held the book, turned its pages. The other was draped over Lex's waist. The younger man seemed to think his belly made a good pillow. 

"Jameel?" The silence was finally broken. So much for that. The Red Owl turned another page, nodding. Lex continued, "So, a mattress is just a place to throw things, right?" Another nod. "What's thrown on it? Clothes, tools..." A pregnant pause. "Significant others?" 

"Pfff..." The book met Jameel's face. _Oh, God, I'm stuck with you. Little walking embarrassment._ He smiled against the parchment. Lifting the book up from his chin, he looked down at the Sparrow. "Let's get something to eat." 

Gilbert awoke to something pecking at him. When he opened his eyes, he saw a bird sitting next to his knee, softly picking at a string that had come unraveled somehow. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, but the bird didn't fly away. He saw now that it was a peregrine falcon, possibly a female from the size-she was large compared with the males he'd seen a few times around his home. 

Gilbert stretched out his arm and watched as the peregrine hopped onto it. Tentatively, he reached over and touched her wing, lest she decide his fingers looked tastier than his clothes. Fortune favored him as she allowed herself to be patted, finding his sleeve another interesting piece of hay-stuck cloth to attack. The German smiled. 

"Haven't seen one of you for a while, beautiful." When he stood and started to brush the hay from his tunic, the bird moved onto his shoulder and started preening his hair. She tugged at it and shook her head. "Must be nesting season, eh, dear? Take some of it, but don't leave me bald." The falcon answered with a loud "eek, eek" that set his ear to ringing, as if she could understand him. Gilbert shook his head, which caused the falcon to tug on his hair more. _Perhaps, like any woman, she likes being complimented._ "So, beautiful, help me search for a little sparrow, would you?" The falcon eeked again before flapping off. Shrugging, the tall Novice followed after her. 

"_G'morsche!_" Gilbert lifted a brow at being addressed in the southern dialect of his own language, then saw where it had come from. The falcon had led him to the Sparrow, all right, as well as something that smelled good. 

"_Guten Morgen, Spaetzlein,_" greeted the taller man as he took a moment to stare at the shed shoes before putting his own with them and sitting down in a rough imitation of the men around him. The peregrine reclaimed his left shoulder and settled to nibbling at his ear. Lex smiled at the bird as Gilbert took in the men seated around him.

He noticed then that beside him was the odd lunatic that liked sleeping in hay, his hood down. He looked like any of the men there: dark of skin, hair, and eye, although, like himself, both his tunic and shirt were gray. Lex was seated beside the man Gilbert knew as the Red Owl in white robes and opposite them was the man in the white robes with the blue over them—Malik—and another man in gray and white. This was Rauf, the German heard as he listened, and, he noted, one of the men with a full beard besides himself. 

When he sat down, the men were laughing about something. Desmond leaned over and explained, "Lex still has an accent. He was telling them what he said and the word sounded botched." 

Gilbert gave a little grin and answered with a whisper, "You speak this tongue pretty well for an Englishman. I fear my accent won't go away even if I grow to be a hundred twenty-two." He gave the men another passing glance, one to the other to the next. Apart from the brief greetings they'd given him and Desmond's slight conversation; they hadn't given him much more notice. Rauf offered him some odd looking bread, which he gladly accepted. 

He sat back and listened to the voices around him. Malik was discussing something about horses with Rauf, with Jameel throwing a few comments in here and there. A few times Lex was drawn into speaking a few words. Desmond was explaining quickly to Gilbert which things tasted good with what. A spice dip had been set out with the bread, as well as a few vegetables of all things and yogurt. Hot, dark drinks were also around the men. 

Lex and Desmond reached for more dip at the same time. Desmond slapped Lex's hand away. 

"No double-dipping!" 

"You triple-dipped!" the smaller man quipped, moving around his hand. The Novice moved to smack his hand again, only to receive a nice dollop of yogurt to the nose. The one-armed man reached over and grasped Desmond by the ear, hissing, "Novice," as the same was done to Lex by the Red Owl. The pair let out noises of displeasure and pain as they were pulled to sit beside the Masters. Rubbing his ear, the Sparrow reintroduced Gilbert to the men he knew and to the men he didn't. 

The men greeted him in return. Soon enough, the conversation had picked up where it left off. Lex nodded to the reprimand Jameel gave him, still rubbing his ear. He snorted as a glob of yogurt was nearly stuffed up his nose, wiping it off with his hand and licking it from there. Shaking his head, he hid his face into his cup of black liquid. Malik and Desmond were discussing something animatedly, too quickly for Gilbert to follow, prodding at one another or making gestures as Rauf and Jameel watched, sipping their drinks. 

The German ventured to try his own drink. It was bitter but refreshing and made his mind much clearer. He snuck a little of the dip and popped the bread into his mouth. _This is delicious._ He smiled into his beard. _Far better than that worm-eaten millet they gave us in Acre._ He was surprised at how quickly the little quarrel had been settled.

The elder Assassins didn't seem to be angry with them. There was no painful punishment to be administered, no yelling of going to be placed into a cell. They had simply been shown their place, much as his elder brother had done with him long ago. The way these men were nigh on astonished him. 

At points he couldn't tell if he was in the company of military madmen or an odd family. He tried to gain a little more insight by watching them closely. Malik seemed a sage or councilor from the way he spoke, but seeing his hand's movements he realized this man had been or even still was a skilled warrior. Desmond's face was leaned in close to the other man's, so that it looked like their noses almost brushed. Rauf had disappeared after draining his cup, off to attend to his duties with a nod to each of them. 

Jameel gave nothing away, sitting still and relaxed. The German found his mentor almost obscenely close to the man, all but using him to recline on as he tilted his head back and drained his cup. Small smacking sounds could be heard from the cup before Lex set it down. Jameel gave him a look, to which the Journeyman grinned sheepishly. 

The Eagle stood after retrieving his shoes and gave them a quick farewell. Jameel nudged Lex's shoulder. The younger man looked at him confusedly before realization dawned on him. He snuck another glob of dipped bread and popped it into his mouth, dancing away from a swatting hand as he grabbed his boots and waved for Gilbert to follow. 

The two men rejoined Desmond in the training yard. The smaller time traveler tilted his head at the barkeep. The man clapped his hands together and rubbed them up and down. 

"Mission from Malik?" asked Lex. 

"Mission from Malik." He popped his arms. "All right. Start's here and we're going down the hard way, jumping off the little ledges here and then leaping into the cart, going over the roofs and the out to the horses. After that, it's every man for himself out to Damas." The time travelers grinned at Gilbert and took off running across the ground, kicking up dust as they shot headlong for the drops. 

Gilbert trotted after them. Desmond rolled as Lex hopped ahead of him. The two were soon making the other man eat their dust, mostly for his being two or three steps behind them. They flung themselves into the air, scattering the roosting pigeons as their laughter turned to screeches. Rising from the hay, the younger men hurried along the roofs. _Now this is really what you call a challenge,_ thought the German as he hurried along to catch up. The place was beginning to grow on him the more it reminded him of his childhood, of balancing far above the harbor. 

His lungs were afire as he reached their destination at the stables, the two men already waiting with a horse. Swinging astride the animal, he looked over his shoulder at the mountain towering behind him. It seemed difficult to believe he'd gotten down from there in such an unusual way, but here he stood.

He looked up as he heard a whistle. His mentor and the Eagle waved to him. Gilbert grinned as he put his heels to his horse. They thundered down the path. A fourth rider joined them, riding a bay, his face covered by a cloth, hood drawn up. Desmond let out an odd noise as they went, sounding as if in pain, "Ayayaayaay!" while Lex responded with a laughing, "Yee-haw! Hahaha!" 

Gilbert shook his head and laughed as the rider gave them a salute and pulled away. Clapping his heels to his horse again, he caught up with the others. 

Damascus  
>October, 1191<p>

They rode until sunset without giving themselves a rest, finally reaching the outer district of Damas. 

The men dismounted, panting and laughing. Desmond tugged at Lex's sleeve, pointing to a group of robed men walking toward the gates. Dragging Gilbert after them, the two assumed a position of prayer, heads bowed, hands clasped together. The scholars eyed Gilbert, then the other two Assassins. Shaking their heads and muttering about insane travelers, they went inside, parting the guards for them. 

Once they'd passed the last pair of guards, the trio split off from the group. Lex turned to the others. 

"All right, now we find the Bureau." 

"On it," Desmond said as he clambered up the nearest building to get a better view. The men below looked up at him as he pointed and prepared to get down when... 

"You!" Lex whirled around. It was the innkeeper. "You! Get back here! You need to pay me, you little thief!" If Lex had known the word, he would have called the event serendipitous for the man coming toward him. Instead, the little Journeyman let out an undignified scream and took off running in the direction Desmond had shown. The innkeeper made to run after him, only to find himself running on air. He looked up at the blonde, bearded man restraining him, then at the coins proffered by his hand. 

It was a large hand. He took the coins.

**G'morsche/Guten Morgen = Good morning**

**Hope you all liked the latest chapter. I know, it's short. The next one'll come soon and be longer too.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: ** AC is Ubisoft's, Jameel and Ravenwatch are Krono's, and Gilbert and Tancred are Nessa's.

**Thanks to Smeggi for the review.**

Damascus  
>October, 1191<p>

Dropping through the roof entrance, the men scooped up a drink from the small fountain in the wall before entering the Bureau proper, bypassing the cushion-strewn rug with looks of longing. They were all hot and dusted with sand. 

More than once Lex had made the comment of their smelling like a week old, hot bag of potato chips, to which Desmond had promptly told him to shut his face before he shut it for him, and the truth of his statement showed now. 

The Rafiq lifted his head to ask "What is that smell?" and quickly changed it to "Ah, welcome, my friends, welcome!" He was tall, ebony skinned, and bearded. He wore the same blue robes as Malik, though the three men couldn't tell if he was there for some reason other than being there. "What can I do for you today?" He lifted a brow. "And who is this man?" 

Desmond clapped a hand on Lex's back. "Ah, training a Novice already!" The Rafiq grinned. "Jameel must take pride in his son." It took an enormous amount of effort for both time travelers not to facepalm. Lex's face turned darker beneath his tan as he looked at the floor. 

"Whatever you say, Rafiki," the Sparrow muttered. Desmond elbowed his side. "Goi!" Rubbing his ribs, the young man asked, "Malik said you have a mission for us?" 

"As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could keep your eyes on our informants scattered through the city." The man folded his arms and pursed his lips. "Malik has brought to my attention that they seem..." 

"Next to worthless?" Lex suggested and was elbowed again, this time by Gilbert. "Ow." 

"Prone to getting into trouble." The Rafiq lifted a brow as Lex stopped mid-eye roll, Desmond's hand raised to smack him upside the head. He looked at the door. "Do not be mistaken, Sparrow. I envy your ability to slip away from trouble as well. Except the lashing your father must have given you. I do not envy you that." Again, an almost facepalm session. Desmond and Gilbert dragged Lex off to the door by his arms. 

The three men weighed their options before splitting up among the three districts to cover more ground.

X x X

Gilbert went off to the middle district, hoping to catch a snippet of information or two from the guards and people there as he searched for the informant. He was told that the informant would be hiding, but would try to call him over, and would be dressed in all grays with a gray headscarf. This description would have been adequate had not so many other people been dressed in gray with headscarves around their heads. 

Since blending in with the masses would have been almost impossible considering his height, looks, and accent, he took to the roofs, hiding as well as possible behind the domes and minarets and the odd chimney. He crouched when he saw two men dressed strangely, in all black and what looked like feathers, moving by below him. What next he heard made his heart soar as if it had grown wings, then plummet like it had missed the haystack and fallen into the gorge at Masyaf. 

"You pox-filled, piss-licking pig-dogs! I'll turn you all into stuffing for my pillows!" Gilbert's eyes widened as he looked at the man below. He was deeply tanned, his face lined from squinting into the sun and spray of the ocean and grit of the sand, dressed in the loose clothing of a sailor, though he was far from the sea. The men in black stopped and began to turn, but the heckler had disappeared. 

The man continued to rail, muffled by the gloved hand, until, "_Halt dein Maul, Tancred, du bloeder Arsch!_" Tancred still and turned, looking at the man who held him quiet in disbelief. A giant in white stood before him, a hood masking all but a pair of lips, skin darkened by the sun, and the faintest hints of an almost white blonde braid in its shadows. Slowly, the man uncovered his mouth. 

"G-Gilbert?" His breath was cut short. "_Gilbert, bist du es?_" A grin grew on his face. "_Er ist es! Es ist mein Bruder!_" His mouth was covered again. 

"_Verdammt nochmal, du bist so laut wie immer, Bruder!_" Gilbert swore again through his teeth, looking around hurriedly before bundling the man over his shoulder and hurrying off across the roof. Thankfully, the air had gone out in a whoosh and was in again in a gasp as he moved over the rooftops, so his brother had nothing with which to make a sound.

X x X

Desmond looked up from where he'd been tackled to the ground by an informant. The man was wild-eyed, and stuffed something into his hands only to run off with no explanation. The Eagle stood and moved to follow him, only to see the German Novice come running toward him. 

"What's wrong? Who's this guy? What's he doing over your shoulder?" Desmond asked. Tancred was huffing and gasping something in German. The barkeep hissed as he saw the arrow protruding from Gilbert's shoulder. "What the hell? Who shot you?" 

Hurrying to Gilbert's back, he forced the man down. Tancred held onto his brother's shoulders as Desmond broke the shaft and cut out the head. The larger man groaned and swore under his breath. _Guess this isn't a very good day for him,_ the Eagle thought as an explosion rocked the ground. That answered one question. Another, more pressing, surfaced. "Where's Lex?"

X x X

In the poor district, the Sparrow scrambled over the rooftops, a smear of blood streaking his face from where his head had been cut. Glass and bombs, as well as saw-toothed arrows, flew after him. 

He threw himself over the gap between the roof he stood on and a mosque roof, staggering and falling on his face. Rolling up, scraping his fingers, he flew by the bewildered guards that had come over to investigate him. Jumping down from the roof, Lex landed off on a beam below that stretched across the street. The guards jumped down after him, one missing the mark entirely and landing with the sickening crack of breaking bone below, the other hard behind him. Lex grasped at the beam as he lost his balance and scurried like a drunken squirrel across it. 

Coming to the end of another roof, he turned to face the man. Panting, he took a step back, his heel brushing the open air. The guard's eyes widened; he almost dropped his sword as he held out his other hand, trying to coax him back from the edge. Lex spread out his arms and fell backwards, flipping to land in a crouch. Looking up at the stunned face above, he gave the man a weary salute before running off. 

Another bomb arrow took out the street section a few feet behind him, tossing him end over end until he fetched up against a market stall. 

"Agh...shit..." The Journeyman drew himself wobbling to his feet and staggered into a run, pushing off the nearest wall whenever possible. He was so fixed on getting to the gate that he didn't notice running by Desmond and Gilbert until the Novice's brother and the bartender picked him up. "Come on! That hurts!" 

The pain in his back made Gilbert nauseous as they hurried through the alleys, laying false trails where they could, but their pursuers were relentless. Desmond helped Gilbert and Tancred onto the man's horse. The mount protested as Desmond swung astride his own. 

"Go for Masyaf!" Desmond almost did an imitation of his eight-times-great-grandfather's glare as Lex moved over to them. The kid didn't even look like he could see straight, much less ride on that fidgeting mare of his. "_Wal-aan!_" He slapped Desmond's horse. The animal bolted, Gilbert's following. 

"'Now,' he says!" the bartender snarled as they sped toward the mountains. "He'd better not die!"

Masyaf  
>October, 1191<p>

Gilbert didn't remember much from their ride back to the castle. He was too preoccupied with keeping in the saddle. When they reached Masyaf, Desmond and Tancred brought him to the infirmary as quickly as they could; wadding up cloths the servants gave them to staunch the bleeding. 

Some of the Sparrow's luck must have rubbed off on him, he felt. Nothing inside was damaged that they could see. Once the bleeding was stopped, they cleansed the wound and sewed it shut. 

"Who uses such foul weapons?" asked Tancred, turning the arrowhead he'd picked up over and over in his hands. Desmond took it from him and tossed it aside. 

"We call them Crows," he said. _Jameel's not going to like this._ Gilbert nodded absently to this information. Tancred folded his arms. 

"Now that that tidbit isn't fascinating and all, but I would like to know something." He looked at his brother and screamed, "Just what the hell are you doing here?" 

Down in the village, Lex shivered as he dismounted. The winds were getting colder all the time now and his wounds didn't exactly help with the chill. Speckles of blood dotted his robes where the shattered flecks of glass arrows had caught on his skin and caused myriad pinpricks to blossom into red patches on his clothes. He looked up as someone stopped in front of him. 

"Not my fault this time," he rasped, doubling up and coughing. He sniffed, then let himself be straightened and led toward the keep. 

"What happened?" Jameel finally asked when he was settled beside Gilbert. The Sparrow sighed and explained as the Owl casually picked out a large piece of glass from his arm, "_Aha!_ Was in the poor district. Found the informant." He sucked in a breath to his teeth. "He wasn't very lively anymore." He looked at Desmond and Gilbert and shrugged, lips pressed into a thin line. Sweat and blood matted down his hair, leaving streaks in the dust that coated him like a second layer of skin. 

Gilbert was glad to see his mentor more or less well, despite the young man looking how he felt. He watched the Red Owl as he took care of the small Assassin in what he might have called a gentle manner. Not that such wounds didn't warrant careful attention, but he had to admit, it was no surprise when looking at such treatment that people fell for the father and son rumor. _A son that must come completely after his mother._

"Looks as those black cloaks were after the informants rather than us," he ventured, looking at Jameel. "Who are these men? In all the five years I have served under the red and black crosses, never did I learn about such creatures within the Order." 

"Assassin killers in the service of my brother," Jameel said shortly as Lex began to squirm. "Hold still!" The Sparrow winced as a stubborn, jagged bit was extracted from his back. He sighed. "That's all of it." Desmond echoed Lex's sigh.

_Will these buzzards leave any of us alone?_ he wondered as Tancred moved forward. 

"Brother, you know I don't like being ignored, much less out of the loop." He addressed the other men in the room, his voice rising with each new question. "Now answer me my questions: Who the hell are you people? What the hell are you talking about? And what in God's name are you doing in this speck of nowhere in the mountains in the middle of the damned desert that I've got to risk my life to find my delusional little brother?"

**Halt dein Maul, Tancred, du bloeder Arsch! = Shut the hell up, Tancred, you stupid ass!**

**Gilbert, bist du es? = Gilbert, is that you?**

**Er ist es! = He is!**

**Es ist mein Bruder! = It's my brother!**

**Verdammt nochmal, du bist so laut wie immer, Bruder! = Damn it, you're as loud as ever, brother!**

**Wal-aan! = Now!**

**Aha! = Shit!**

**Keep the comments coming, readers. As always, you keep reading, I'll keep writing, and if needed please correct any language mistakes I make. Thanks to Nessa again for the German help. :3 It's much appreciated.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to AC. Krono owns Jameel, Nessa has Gilbert and Tancred. Also, credit goes out to the Nostalgia Critic for the jumping the shark moment.**

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed in some shape or form and reads the story.**

Masyaf  
>Late October-Early November, 1191<p>

"Assassins," said Tancred once his brother and the other men had finished their tale. "Assassins. You expect me to believe that you lot are Assassins and that you live up to some sort of Creed and have swindled my brother-my kind-hearted, soul-saving, silly brother—into joining your ranks with—with _Lebkuchen_ of all this?" 

"I'm gonna make good on that promise," Lex muttered. 

"Shut up, boy!" 

"Tancred." The merchant shut his mouth as his brother's voice sent ice into his veins. Gilbert spoke with an authority that belied his younger years, one that demanded his obedience for a reason the man couldn't fathom. "_Bruderherz, Ich liebe dich, aber halte deine Zunge im Zaum!_" The two brothers looked at each other for a long moment before Tancred shook his head. 

"_Lebkuchen. Mein Gott._" 

"Okay, I've got a deal for you, man," said Desmond, leaning his folded arms on his knees. "You're a business man, right?" A nod. "So am I. I'm a bartender. You're a merchant. We both provide a service. How about you extend that service to us? Provide us with information—we both know how customers can talk if they like the man's face who serves them—and we'll provide you and your family with protection." 

Tancred leaned his chin on his fist. 

"This deal doesn't sound bad, but let me ask you one thing. What kind of drinks do you serve, bartender?" 

"Every kind of alcohol in the world." 

A week later Tancred's head still spun from all of Masyaf he felt he had yet to explore. Mostly the people. The people were the lifeblood of his trade and the merchant couldn't resist the urge to stand in the market at least once daily and imagine what it would be like to set up his shop there. Moving to the fountain at the center of the market, he bent down and took a drink. Looking up from the water, the man smiled at two women who came to get some water themselves. 

"Why, hello." Tancred grinned and opened his mouth to ask if he could help these fine ladies with their buckets when Desmond came by and drew him away. "What are you doing?"

"You don't want to have to deal with their brothers. Or their fathers. Or their husbands," said the hooded man flatly as they walked back up the hill. The two made their way up to the ledge where Gilbert and Lex sat, standing a ways off and listening. The German and his mentor didn't notice them, too engrossed in conversation. 

"So, what's the problem, Gilly?" asked Lex. Gilbert scratched at his beard, then the back of his neck beneath his blonde hair. 

"You see, _Meister_—" 

"Lex." 

"Lex. You see, Lex, there is this girl... Woman," Gilbert corrected himself, "this woman that I have my eye on and she has her eye on me. Her parents do give their consent. It is only..." 

"Only...what?" 

"I don't know what to do about her dowry." The four men glanced up as they heard a pair of footsteps. Malik was walking down the pathway toward Tancred and Desmond, leading a Novice beneath his arm, the little fingers clutching at his blue robes. The boy looked like any of the others but for a white streak going down the part in his black hair. The men watched as a woman came up the rise, small as the Sparrow, some of her long, black hair falling from beneath her headscarf. Nudging the little Novice on to her, Malik made his way over to them. Lex looked between Malik and the direction the boy had gone, motioning toward his own hair. 

"He's one of the new boys from Jerusalem, an orphan. I'm arranging for Gilbert and Sarah to take him in," explained the Rafiq, taking a seat beside them. "What is this I hear of a dowry problem?" 

"It is only a small problem, _Sayyid_, really," Gilbert stammered, flustered now by the Hawk of all men coming to add his own advice to the pot. "You've shown so much kindness to my brother and me already. I cannot repay it all in one lifetime." So far the one-armed Master had set up an arrangement with Gilbert and his brother, using maps he'd made himself—it had amused Tancred to no end that there was a cartographer among the Assassins, let alone one with only a single arm; Gilbert had had to twist his brother's behind his back so as to make him keep the comment to himself—for the work the men would do for the Brotherhood. He couldn't ask much more of the man than what had already been given. 

"Oh, shut up, Gilbert." Malik rolled his eyes and looked at Lex. "What have you been telling this man?" 

"I was going to say that maybe he should talk to you about it," said the man's young mentor. "I mean, I don't know anything about marriage laws here other than there's sheep and goats involved, or some kind of labor or money." He shrugged. "You gotta give something for the girl's all I know." 

"You were about to give him good advice then."

"Because it's a wonder the lad's voice is even deep as it is. What would he know about women and marriage?" Tancred grumbled. Desmond shoved his face into the grass in front of them and told him to stuff it quietly as they continued watching. 

"I'll help with negotiating the bride price." Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but Malik held up his hand. "Consider it as your payment for this month." He smirked. "Or should I make it your payment for the rest of the year?" 

"You could make it the payment for the rest of my life." 

"Your wife would murder you," Lex laughed. The others shook their heads. 

"She's not my wife yet, _Spaetzlein_." 

"Eh, fiancée then." The Journeyman shrugged. "So, did you take your brother with you to be your parent substitute or something for when you negotiated?" Gilbert looked away from him. Malik looked at him as well. 

"No, I went myself. Tancred doesn't know yet." 

"You didn't tell him?" Malik's brows rose. "He's your brother." 

"_Ja, das ist er._ Exactly why I didn't." 

"_Du bloeder Arsch!_" Tancred shouted as he shoved Desmond's smothering arms off his head. "_Warum nicht? Ich bin dein Bruder!_" He fell back into Arabic. "What would you think I would have done, sent a message to our uncle by stinking bird?" 

"You shut up as well," Malik snapped. "Or you'll be joining the Novices at making the rounds of the top of the walls. All night." Tancred opened his mouth to protest, but could only murmur weakly, "You only have birds around here..." 

"We have the Pony Express too, y'know," Desmond interrupted, forcing Tancred to a sit as he climbed up onto the spot where the others sat, shoving him to a sit himself as he used the man as a handhold. He took a seat for himself and added, "Let's just be happy for the time being that your brother's found love, buddy. It's a good excuse to eat, drink, and be merry." 

"Drinking here? Pah." The Sparrow looked up at Gilbert as the large man put a hand on his shoulder. 

"_Dankeschoen,_" he said as he watched Desmond lead his brother off toward the keep. 

"_Wofuer?_" Lex looked up at him. The blonde man was only smiling. He nodded to Malik and set off after the others. The two remaining men looked at one another. The Sparrow shrugged. "I dunno."

"I said nothing." Malik held up his hand and stood. "I said nothing. Sparrow, by the way..." 

"Mm-hmm?" 

"You picked a good man." 

"Mm-hmm. Malik?" 

"Yes?" 

"What on earth have you been smoking? It's certainly not your usual brand of hash." 

"Okay, okay, it's Tancred's turn." The foursome sat around the library of the keep. Desmond had managed to somehow get hold of semi-decent beer. The men took another sip of their drinks. It had been a few hours since Malik's decision to help Gilbert out with his marriage arrangements. 

Now Malik was in conversation with Jameel in front of the hearth, the lower ranking men a little ways away. 

"We're at the kiddy table," Desmond had muttered. 

The merchant took another swig of his beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

"_Ja._ Let's go. My tongue's wet enough for a tale." He grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Have you two heard about the Sleepers?" The time travelers shook their heads. "It is a legend among all the three peoples of the Holy Land." He took another swig. 

"You see...these men enter a cave. Three, four, seven and a dog, it doesn't matter the number, but these men enter a cave in the desert hills. When they awaken, it is thousands of years later. They are still young, still living when they got out. And one became a king and ruled for some odd number of years." He waved his hand airily. "Yes, yes, all that lot and rubbish." 

"Can you take us there?" Desmond asked suddenly. 

"What?" 

"Can you take us there?" It was Lex this time. "To the cave from the legend?" Tancred looked at his brother, then at the other Assassins. He chuckled and shook his head, standing and moving off toward the room he'd been offered. Gilbert smiled.

"Tonight we continue to drink, my friends," he said. "Tomorrow you might try asking him again. But not in the morning. He's sure to have a raging headache." 

Lex explained the plan to Jameel. 

"You think this place will help you get home, if it even exists anymore?" The Red Owl looked at him with a deadpan stare. He ran a hand over his eyes and face. _Allah, it's too early for this._ "Whatever, Lex. Just don't break the tenets, or I'll come and kill you myself." 

"What, you're not coming?" Lex stared at him, feeling something like a rock sink into the pit of his stomach. Or maybe that was his heart. 

"Not until I've had a proper night's sleep. Four more hours. The muezzins aren't even up yet." Lex nodded, lying down beside him. He reached over at shook Jameel's shoulder. "_La._" 

"Jameel." 

"Huh?" 

"Just to clarify, you're in on this, right?" 

"Hnnnn..." 

"Jami." 

"_Ahhlass, ahbal,_" the Master Assassin groaned into his pillow. "_Min fadlak, ahhlass..._" Lex found himself pressed down onto his belly, head on his pillow. "Or I'll feed you to some rabid fluff owls." The young man chalked that last up to the consequence of it being at least two in the morning.

Kuşadası, Turkey  
>November, 1191<p>

Four days passed on the ride north and westward. For forty-eight of those many, long hours, Tancred never once was quiet. Even in his sleep he murmured and snored and mumbled and carried on. On the afternoon of the third day, Lex reined in his horse beside Gilbert's. The man was staring toward his brother with a look of resigned patience, watching him have a verbal battle with some kind or other of scrub brush.

"Gilbert," Lex said slowly, "can I say something to you even if it doesn't make any logical sense to you?" The tall Novice looked at him and shrugged. 

"If you feel you must." Lex lifted his arm and pointed to Tancred, who was screaming various insults now at the bush that had snagged his clothing and was tearing it at the hem. 

"This is not jumping the shark," said the Journeyman. "Gonna repeat that. This is not jumping the shark. Oh, no, no, no, no. This is jumping the shark, coming back, shooting it in the balls, raping it, eating its flesh, consuming its soul, mounting its head on the wall, _and then doing the same thing to twelve more fucking sharks just to be safe!_" 

Gilbert looked toward his mentor's back and then at his brother. A few hours later, Desmond startled, realizing that the ride had been in silence. Whatever Gilbert had said to his brother, he was glad of it. 

The Assassins stopped overnight on the fourth day from Masyaf in a small inn in Kuşadası. Surprising them all, it was on Tancred's dime. The next morning they were off again, heading northeast to Ephesus. 

Desmond sighed as the horses picked their way up the slope of the mountain. He looked at the dark hole that faced them, shadow within shadow. _Maybe it'll be closed off. Maybe it's just a stupid cave, Desmond,_ he thought to himself. He looked around at the others. 

Gilbert and Tancred were lighting improvised torches made from sticks and rags, one for each of them. Jameel took the first, moving up to the mouth of the cave and peering inside. Lex went after them as they moved into the yawning mouth in the mountainside, the German brothers bringing up the rear. 

"D'you think there are any booby traps in here?" asked Lex after they'd been walking in the dim torchlight for a good number of minutes; Desmond couldn't tell how many. 

"Please, kid, you've been watching too much Indiana Jo—" The man disappeared as he fell into a hole, the "—oones" echoing around the walls until the Assassins crowded around the pit heard, "Owww!" 

"Desmond, are you all right?" Jameel called. "Desmond?" 

"I hate all of you." 

Lex looked up from the hole at the Red Owl and smiled, saying, "Yeah, he's all right." Turning around, the Sparrow fitted himself into the hole and shimmied down awkwardly into the hole. Dropping when the walls began to turn, he landed beside Desmond. The man looked at the other time traveler before they stood up and took up their torches once more; edging one after the other into the small hole that led off the one they'd fallen into. 

"Ouch. Move."

"Gimme a minute. I'm stuck." 

"Oww! Lex, damn it, that's my face!" Desmond shoved Lex's foot off his face, shoving the boy into a large cavern. The bartender followed after him. "What?" He looked at the boy's staring face, then turned to see what he was looking at. "Oh my God..." 

_Indiana Jones boy wasn't far off. Should've been thinking more Crystal Skull than Temple of Doom._

Before the two men was a room lit by dimly glowing crystal, illuminating what looked to Desmond like different sized versions of the Animus. _What is the plural of that anyway? Animuses? Animi...?_ Lex stood and moved to one of the machines. "Hey, hey, hey, be careful." Desmond hurried over to him as Lex reached for the nearest crystal. "Careful!" 

"Shut up and I will be," Lex whispered, touching the tip of the crystal gently. The pair leaned in close to the crystal. "So, these things could take us to the future, right?" 

"Probably. We should take one or two of 'em and see what they do." 

Lex worked one of the crystals out carefully with his dagger as Desmond did the same. "Should we really be messing with alien technology?" 

"If I grow a third arm, you'll be the first to know." Putting the crystals into their packs, they headed back toward the entrance. 

As the Assassins mounted their horses and rode back toward home, two figures perched above the cave, staring out at them from white bone masks. The black-clad watchers looked toward one another before letting a black feathered bird soar up into the sky.

Masyaf  
>November, 1191<p>

The riders came in a zigzagging line up the slope. Gilbert made it first to the gates, dismounting and hurrying to where Sarah stood with the young Novice with the odd hair. He picked her up and spun her around, hugging her tightly despite the stares he received from a few passersby. 

Tancred came next, swearing under his breath as he trudged up to the keep. Desmond made up the rear with Jameel and Lex. The Eagle dismounted and looked up as he looked up toward the keep. He felt his blood chill as he heard a croaking cawing.

Jameel looked up sharply at the crow circling high above them, arms still around Lex from helping the sore Sparrow down. Three more joined it. _Is it an escort?_ Crows never flew in such a deliberate, organized manner. _Masyaf is being watched...or is it? Those deceptive bastards..._

"They're just birds." The murmur broke the Red Owl out of his thoughts. He looked at Lex. He was pale, eyes fixed on the wheeling birds. Jameel didn't need to see the fear in his eyes; he could feel it in the grip on his arm. The Sparrow met his gaze. "They're just birds." 

"They were trained to fly like that. That's the only rational conclusion I can come up with." The crows made another pass overhead and flew off. _They wouldn't dare strike at Masyaf, would they? No, scary as they are, they wouldn't dare... But they seem to have such a powerful grip on the cities around us..._

Jameel clamped down on the mounting paranoia, refusing to let it show as he took Lex's hand tightly in his own and led him up the path toward home.

**Bruderherz, Ich liebe dich, aber halte deine Zunge im Zaum—Brother dear, I love you, but curb your tongue. (Lit. Put lashes on your tongue.)**

**Meister—Master**

**Sayyid—Master/Sir**

**Ja, das ist er—Yes, that he is.**

**Du bloeder Arsch!—You stupid ass!**

**Warum nicht?—Why not?**

**Ich bin dein Bruder—I am your brother.**

**Wofuer—What for?**

**Ahhlass—Shut up**

**Ahbal—Idiot**

**Min fadlak—Please**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, dear readers. I'll keep writing if you keep reading and enjoying.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: As you guys probably know from twenty-three chapters previous, I don't own AC's characters, Krono's are both Jameel and the Ravenwatch, and Nessa owns Gilbert.**

**Thanks for the reviews from Storm, Tobi, and Wooqy. All appreciated.**

Masyaf  
>November, 1191<p>

The blade glistened as it turned end over end, the keen edge slamming into the wood of the dummy's head and cleaving it neatly in two. The axe clanged against the stone wall behind the dummy and fell to the floor of the training yard. Malik moved over from where he'd been standing well back from the targets near the barbican and nodded to the blonde man. 

"If you can do that several more times, I'll be impressed." Gilbert nodded and took the compliment, such as it was. The two men looked up at a whistle of appreciation to see Lex clapping his hands, a small bag moving from side to side, pinned between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Gilbert, if you can do that with an axe, we should get you an ax." Malik shook his head. Whatever else an axe could be, he wasn't certain, but he'd given up trying to understand half of what the little Sparrow said most of the time. Lex held up the bag. "Let it be known to your brother that I keep my promises, even if delivery is a little late in coming." 

"_Lebkuchen?_" Tancred poked his head around the doorway to the keep. "You actually made some?" The two Germans made their way over to him and held out their hands. Lex placed one of the cookies in each of them. Gilbert popped his into his mouth and bit down. It turned to overly sweet ash in his mouth, but he smiled nonetheless. _A chef my little teacher will most likely never be,_ he thought, giving his brother a swift glare when the merchant looked ready to spit the mash in his mouth back out at the one who'd given it to him. 

"Well?" Lex stood on his toes. "How is it? Good? Does it suck? It sucks, doesn't it?" Gilbert swallowed the stuff in his mouth down. 

"You must have used a different recipe to what I'm familiar with, _Spaetzlein_. Go get me parchment and quill and I'll give you my mother's." Lex nodded and smiled, hurrying off. Tancred spat and scraped at his tongue with his fingers. Malik handed them his canteen. 

Lex returned and passed Tancred the bag of cookies as he gave Gilbert the quill and parchment, offering his back to use as a desk. Gilbert wrote quickly. Lex pocketed the little note as Desmond finally rose from his haystack, yawning and picking hay out of his hair and hood. 

"Morning, Dessy." 

"It's the afternoon," corrected Malik. Lex rolled his eyes at the technicality and looked down toward the village as he made his way over to Desmond with the others. "Hey, Jameel's back." It had been only a few days since their return home, but the crows had made Jameel anxious. The Red Owl rode out every day and made a circuit of the city's perimeter and a quick foray down the main path from the mountains to the crossroads where a man could either turn toward Damas or head south for Acre and Jerusalem before coming back.

Lex trotted off down the slope, waving toward the small woman that was making her way up with the odd-haired boy, whose name they'd found out was Amir. The boy gave Malik a swift hug before racing up to the library. Sarah nodded to Tancred and greeted him, "Bakr." Turning to Gilbert, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Yameen." 

Desmond looked at him questioningly. Gilbert smiled and said, "She has a little trouble with our names, so I asked her to call us whatever she felt appropriate." The Eagle nodded and looked toward the ravine beside the tower, listening halfway to their conversation. 

"How is the little one?" 

"The Sparrow? He made us a little food." 

"Ah. Was it good?" 

"Unfortunately not." Desmond leaned forward, squinting as he looked skyward. The black shapes moved down toward the river. The bartender bolted toward the village, running by Lex and Jameel. Gilbert looked over at him, then toward where the barkeep had been. He shot a look at his brother and said, "_Pass auf Sarah auf, Bruder._" The German headed off after the other Novice. 

Lex opened his mouth, blinking confusedly as Desmond flew by. The Eagle looked like he'd seen Death and Death hadn't looked very pretty. 

"Des?" _He hasn't seen any birds, has he?_ He looked around. There they were, black specks on the sky. _Shit._ The Sparrow took off after the other time traveler, finally catching up to him as he reached the river on the outskirts of the village. His hand moved to his belt, feeling for what weapons he had. Yes, it was there, not far from his sword. 

Jameel looked toward where Lex had been looking, his mouth going dry, and chased after them. I have to get them back before those buzzards make their move. He pushed himself faster as he saw a shape moving down the slope toward the river. _No, no, they've already made their move! It's a trap!_ Something hard hit the back of his head. He fell into the dirt, the world fading into a haze of brown before it blackened. Four of the archers moved to gather up the unconscious Red Owl. 

Lex slowed as he neared the river, seeing Desmond standing still with a blade held to his throat. One of the Crows. Lex slipped the gun into his hand, pointing it at the black-clad figure. "Put the knife down. Now!" The Sparrow twisted as he caught movement in the corner of his eye, firing off two rounds. One of the black birds going for Jameel fell to the ground. The rest of the silent murder sprang from their hiding places around them, going for the Eagle and the one who'd been lucky enough to slay one of their own.

The Sparrow kicked out as three of the birds fell on him, then swung back and cracked one's beak off with his arm. He struggled harder as two grabbed him and slammed him down, bashing his head against the ground. The Journeyman sagged in their hold, vision blackening as he lost consciousness. 

Desmond glared at the archers as they trained their arrows on him. He snarled, but knew he couldn't fight. They'd just make a kabob out of him. He lowered his head as they bound his hands. The man jerked his head up again as the Ravenwatch members who had Jameel were barreled into by Gilbert. The Novice grabbed a third and planted its face firmly into the nearest rock before the rest of the Crows, but for two holding Desmond, surrounded him, their arrows pointed toward his vitals. 

One of the Crows bound Gilbert's hands and then gagged both of the men. They were led to a nearby cluster of horses and made to mount, the two unconscious Assassins tossed onto the mounts of two of the Ravenwatch members before they took off. 

They took them to their castle, which was literally alive with archers. From the outskirts of the town, Gilbert and Desmond could see them standing atop the battlements. They stood shoulder to shoulder, arrows ready to fire, looking like odd gargoyles. The dark castle was surrounded by a town full of equally armed civilians. They looked ready and willing to fight, armed to straight to the roots of their hair, daggers, and bows, quivers of arrows packed to bristling, swords and axes. 

The captives were taken to the keep and down into the dungeons, each one to be placed in a separate cell that was nothing but a room with a floor and a single doorway-the entrance. Of all the things the two conscious men noticed first when the doors were opened, it was that the cells were surprisingly clean. No waste, no dank, it was nigh on polished clean, but otherwise just as depressingly dark as any other prison, lit by a few torches running along the hall. 

Desmond watched as the watchmen threw the dead weight of his companions into their cells, first Jameel, and then Lex. The doors were shut. The man peered into the other time traveler's cell. The kid was in a heap on the floor, a little blood matting his hair from the hit he'd taken in being captured. The Eagle stepped into his cell and folded his arms, giving them a long, focused stare before they shut his door. 

Gilbert took a seat in his cell and looked up through the grating of the bars in the door. _Well, this is familiar._ Both men knew what would come next. 

Time to play the waiting game: Waiting for the Owl and the Journeyman to wake up. Waiting to see what would be done to them.

**Pass auf Sarah auf, Bruder—Keep Sarah safe, brother.**

**Bakr—Tancred's Arabic name from Sarah, meaning young camel**

**Yameen—Gilbert's Arabic name from Sarah, meaning oath; right hand; right wing (of the army)**

**Thanks to everybody who reads and reviews. I hope you're still enjoying. Seems you are, so I'm still writing. Thanks to Nessa as well again for the German help. **_**Du bist wunderschoen, **__**Herzallerliebstes**_**. :3**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **AC and its characters belong to Ubisoft; Jameel and Ravenwatch belong to Krono; Tancred, Gilbert, and Sarah belong to Nessa.

**Thanks to Storm and Wooqy for reviewing again.**

Masyaf  
>November, 1191<p>

The couple had dismounted in the village to find it in a state of semi-chaos. Assassins moved left and right, questioning villagers and speaking of crows and ravens. Moving upward along the slope of the mountain, they made their way to the keep, where a trio of men and a single woman stood arguing.

"Our brothers have been captured, Abbas," Malik snarled. "It is more than our duty to go rescue them."

"My husband was among those captured as well, brother, or did you forget that?" Sarah added.

"Be silent, woman! Those men were here for one purpose and that was to capture Jameel. If they took the two infidels with them, why should we be bothered?" Abbas responded, only to stagger back as Tancred pushed him up against the walls of the keep. Despite being no taller than either of the two men and certainly not as strong as his brother, Abbas' surprise and his own anger fueled his strength.

"_Ungläubig? Wer bist du dass du dir elaubst meinen Bruder einen Ungläubigen, du widerliches, scheissbloedes Schwein? Und du wagst es_ so _mit seiner Frau zu sprechen? Ich sollte dir deine Zunge rausreissen und sie die Klippe runter schmeissen, damit du sie dir selbst wieder holen kannst!_" It took Malik, Sarah, and the couple to pull him off. Tancred swung around, facing the taller of the two newcomers. "_Und wer bist du, Arschloch?_"

The man looked down his nose at him with golden brown eyes and remained silent. Beside him, Sarah bowed her head. Malik took the merchant by the shoulder and said in his ear, "That man is our Grandmaster, Altair ibn La'Ahad."

"Oh. Oh..." Tancred pressed his hand to his eyes, then turned to Altair. "My apologies, sir. One moment." He swung around and rammed his fist into Abbas' face. The Assassin slumped to the ground, clutching at his bent nose. Tancred returned to facing Altair. "Again, my apologies. If I had known your station, I can assure you I would have given you a much more flowery insult, one fit for some of those poetry books in that library of yours." Altair ignored this and turned to Malik.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Jameel has been captured, along with your lookalike, Jameel's boy, and his Novice."

"Jameel has another Novice?"

"No, his boy has one."

"He's a Journeyman already?"

"Yes, yes, Altair, the point is that they're taken!"

"Wait, then who is this?" He pointed to Tancred.

"The Novice's brother."

"The Novice is German?"

"Altair! Will you kindly shut up for a minute?" The second newcomer pushed back her hood, revealing a fair face to go along with her English accent. Her hair was black and her eyes blue, but darker than Jameel's. "Maria Thorpe," she said by way of short introduction. "Who's captured them?"

Malik had to take a moment to register the woman's presence from the shock he'd been given before he stammered, "The—These Crows."

"Wouldn't it be wise then, Altair, for you to go after these Crows, if we know where they've taken the men? Your men?" She looked toward Malik. "That is, if we know where they've taken them."

"Their tracks are still here." They looked at Sarah. "Please, Master," she said to Altair, "find my husband quickly." She looked at Maria. The older woman gave her a nod before going to fetch fresh horses for the man and whoever would accompany him. Altair turned to Tancred.

"Since you're so eager to do something..."

"Informant," supplied the one-armed Dai.

"Informant, I propose you come with me and teach me a little of your language. I've yet to learn the insults." He hurried down the slope. Tancred rolled his eyes. At least someone had fallen in with his original idea, however inadvertently. _I like that woman he brought with him. She and this man Malik will no doubt be the brains of this outfit._ As he made to follow the pair, a hand stopped the merchant. He looked toward his sister-in-law.

"Thank you, Bakr." Sarah gripped his arm tightly. "I wouldn't have expected..." Tancred gave her a slight smirk and pulled her hands gently from his arm, holding them between his own.

"Well, even a young camel can give a good kick, can't it, _Schwesterherz_?"

The Crow Nest  
>November, 1191<p>

Jameel opened his eyes to a nice view of the inside of a stone cell and a fierce headache. He reached back and touched his head; the spot where he'd been hit was tender. He hadn't been hit hard enough to do much more damage than that, just enough to make sure he didn't squirm and struggle during transport. Squinting, he was able to see by the dim light that was thrown into the cell by the torch in the hall beyond the door.

The Master Assassin promptly went into panic mode. _Shit! I'm inside their nest! I'm inside their castle! In the dungeons, granted, but still inside their castle!_ He patted at himself furiously, at his belt and arm. All he felt was empty leather and bare skin. His weapons had been stripped from him; his Hidden Blade was gone.

_I'm going to die here._ Jameel swallowed and prayed that the part of his brain that had come to that conclusion was wrong. He rubbed at the place on his left arm where the blade usually rested. He felt naked without his weapons, but mostly without that familiar one. The Owl's talons had been shaved down to blunt nails.

Feeling his way forward, he found the door. He tried shoving at it, but it wouldn't budge even when he gave the shove a running start. The dull thump of meat on metal reached his ears as his shoulder rammed into the door. _Not only locked, but reinforced._ He looked at the door and kicked it uselessly, kicked it out of helplessness and an ever mounting frustration. _Even if we had lock picks to free ourselves, where would we go? It's too dark to see and they're sure to have traps set up. Not to mention guards in every nook and cranny. Nook and cranny? Allah, I'm sounding like... The others!_

"Hello?" called the Red Owl.

"Jameel?" Desmond's voice called over from his cell. "You okay in there?"

"My head is sore from where they hit me, but I'm fine. I don't have my weapons. They took them from me."

"No good here either. I'm out. What about you, Gilbert?"

"No weapons, but I've a few scratches to my name," said the German. Concern followed in his next words as he asked, "What of the little Sparrow?" Jameel's stomach knotted itself into a ball as he felt bile rush up into the back of his throat.

"He was pretty banged up when I last saw him," answered the young Eagle.

"What happened?" Desmond almost jumped at the sudden harshness in the Master Assassin's voice.

"He shot one of the bastards and they cracked his head on the ground. He was bloody, but I think he was okay. He was still breathing when they put him in his cell. Hey, Lex!" Jameel felt the bile shift up into his mouth. He forced a swallow, fearing the pounding of his heart would be heard by the guards in the silence. "Lex?"

The man gripped at the wall to steady himself, knees suddenly weak as he heard a rasped, "Des...?"

In his cell, the young Journeyman stirred, opening his eyes. They blurred and his world spun. He shut them, though it did nothing to assuage the nausea. The world still spun and it was dark with his eyes open or shut. He groaned, "Where...?"

"The Crows took us to their nest."

"Hella blood..."

"Yeah, you hit your head."

"Jameel?"

"I'm here, Lex. I'm weaponless, but alive." Lex raised himself from the floor slowly, swayed, then backed up to the far wall. He took a running start and slammed his shoulder against the door once, twice. "I've tried. It won't budge. Don't waste your energy." He shuddered and slid down along the door to the floor, feeling at the usual places where his weapons had hung. No gun, no sword, no daggers, no knives. Even his pockets were empty!

"I don't have any weapons. Nothing." _Hell, they probably won't even feed us—God knows what Assassins can do with spoons!_ Lex crawled over to the wall closest to the direction from which Jameel's voice had come and pressed his head against the cold, almost soothingly cold, stone. His voice was almost a whisper. "What do they plan to do with us?"

Jameel opened his mouth to answer, but his tongue was stilled by the sound of the door in the hall opening. The Assassins moved to the bars of their cell doors and peered out. In the hall stood a Ravenwatch member, a crow on each of his shoulders. He had the Ravenwatch white bird mask, but in the flickering torchlight the lenses were tinted sulfur yellow. His clothing, like the rest of his murder, was black, but in the form of what looked to the time travelers like an attempt at a trench coat. This member also carried a rather superfluous cane and a third crow perched on top of his head. His attire left the men confused and through the confusion even more intimidated. As he walked down the hall, the guards stationed along it bowed.

This must have been the boss.

He quietly glided forward, back and forth in front of them, once in a while turning his head to look at the captives in their cells. He stopped at Gilbert's cell, keeping himself at a good distance from the bars. The German lifted both his brows and nodded once.

"Yes, sir, you have given us fine accommodations. You also look very silly."

Lex, who'd been leaning forward as far as he could to look at the boss through the bars, sank back down and started laughing. Desmond stared as he heard the Sparrow's laughter. _Is he insane? Did he hit his head too hard?_

"He looks like...hahaha...a Steampunk Marylyn Manson." More laughter. Strangely, it had a calming effect on the Eagle. He smirked. Steampunk Manson had turned his mask toward them before striding toward Lex's cell from Gilbert's. Desmond snickered as he watched him. He did look like a poor, demented man's Manson cosplay.

The boss reached into his coat and revealed one of their guns, pointing it at Desmond. The crows scattered as their perch moved and fluttered to little wooden pegs on the wall. The boss's shifting in the light revealed that what had first been thought of as a dark mane of hair was really a head full of long, black feathers, almost like a headdress had been grafted to his skin. He also had the rest of their weapons tucked away beneath the coat, the men saw as he looked between them.

"Steam...punk?" The mask hardly did anything to muffle the voice, which was deep enough to make the time travelers' bones rattle. The mask only helped to amplify the eeriness of the voice. The laughter had fallen silent. _Not so funny now, is it?_ Jameel thought. From where he stood, he didn't think so. Deciding that the prisoners had been attempting some form of jibe, the Crow Master stated, "Why belittle your already feeble minds further with attempts at insults when the tables are clearly not in your favor? That would be placing your head in a hungry lion's mouth and expecting to remove it safely. Attempt the same again and I'll remove your tongues with this weapon of yours and nail them to the wall for the fledglings to see and laugh at."

Desmond clamped his mouth shut and swallowed visibly. He held up his hands. The man had a point. The Novice just hoped the Journeyman would keep his yap shut and didn't want his brains splattered all over the cell wall like some macabre interior design.

When Desmond had shut up, Lex had taken a long breath and done likewise, but couldn't keep his lips from forming a smirk. His blood was frozen in his veins and he had nowhere to run. Try as he might—and he was trying his damnedest, the muscles of his cheeks twitching as he sought to rid his face of the expression—the defiant little look wouldn't be removed from his features.

His body tensed instinctively as he drew a breath.

Why in God's name the words left his mouth, his mind wasn't ever given time to process.

"At least I'm not bald, you feather-headed freak."

Silence reigned in the hall, but for the crackling of the torches.

"It seems we have one of those willing types," said the Crow Master softly. "Very well." The click of the hammer being pulled back harmonized well with the sound coming from the torches. The Assassins almost missed it.

There was no missing the deafening explosion as the gun went off. Jameel gripped at his ears as they rang, the dull sound of a thump reaching him through the hum. He wished it hadn't. At the same time, he struggled to clear his ears.

Desmond shook in his cell as he heard the muffled voice of the Ravenwatch Grandmaster say, "Hand me the needle." _Oh, God... What are they doing? Is he dead? What the hell are they doing?_

One of the guards handed the head of the Ravenwatch Order a needle filled with...something. Jameel peered at it. What was it? It was a liquid, but it was such an odd color, a dull yellow. In return, the guard was given all of the captives' weapons that were on the Grandmaster's person and was sent away to lock them up, including the gun.

The lead Crow moved into the cell.

Lex lay on the floor, breathing heavily. He stared at the needle, then at the blood seeping out of his upper arm from the ragged bullet hole, then at the needle again. His pupils were huge in the dim light, almost seeming to blot out his irises, whites visible in a bright, wide circle. Like the whites of the Sparrow's eyes, the tinted lenses of the Crow's mask caught what light there was being thrown into the dungeon. Whether it was the shock distorting his perception or not, the eerie, yellow glow of those things that weren't quite eyes unnerved him.

"This won't sting at all."

Lex gasped as the needle was pushed into the hole in his arm, the liquid injected. His eyes rolled up and shut.

This lasted only for a moment. As the Ravenwatch Grandmaster looked on, the small Assassin began to shudder. Lex's eyes opened and stretched to their widest. A strange smell was in his nose, like someone had spilled bleach nearby. His arm was being squeezed by some invisible vice. His mouth buzzed as if someone had zapped him with one of those gag electrical shockers worn against the palm.

It was then that he began to choke and vomit, spit clinging to his mouth. He gagged, clawing and kicking at the air, then gripping at his arms and curling into a ball, rocking back and forth on his side, as waves of intense cold wracked his body.

The drug had begun to take its effects. Good. He would think like they did soon. Turning, he commanded two of the guards, "Take him to the barracks." The two fledglings picked up Lex by the arms, beginning to take him out. They pulled up sharply as the jittery Assassin was jerked from their arms. Jameel's fist curled around a bunched section of Lex's tunic.

The Master Assassin was forced to release his hold on the Journeyman as twin daggers snaked dangerously close to his wrist. Sheathing their weapons, the fledglings took hold of the limp figure by the shoulders of his tunic and continued to drag Lex along. All Jameel could do was watch until a yellow-eyed, white bird face blocked his line of sight.

"Do you know what that drug does to my fledglings? It makes them very susceptible to commands." The white beak poked through the bars. Jameel was tempted to snap it off, but refrained, lest it be barbed with some sort of poison or worse. "The entire castle and the village below are mine. This is the reason my men are like what you might call zealots. This drug is potent. They can't survive without more. It brings them pain unimaginable to go without it. My commands are their very lives." The beak withdrew.

_No wonder they're so organized. No wonder they fight like demons._ Jameel leaned his head against the door. _They're trained under the effects of this drug._ But didn't the Assassins use hashish with much the same effects? his brain wanted to know. _No, no, no! We're nothing like this...this thing! This man—no, he's not a man—this creature is pure evil!_

And now the creature had turned his attention to Desmond, another guard replacing the empty needle in his hand with one that was full. "You're next."

Desmond glared at the man, meeting his eyes through the mask's eyeholes as well as any one of them could with the light making them into shimmering gold coins.

"Bring it on."

**Ungläubig? Wer bist du dass du dir elaubst meinen Bruder einen Ungläubigen, du widerliches, scheissbloedes Schwein? Und du wagst es**** so ****mit seiner Frau zu sprechen? Ich sollte dir deine Zunge rausreissen und sie die Klippe runter schmeissen, damit du sie dir selbst wieder holen kannst!—Infidel? Who do you think you are to call my brother an infidel, you disgusting, damned stupid swine? And you dare talk like this to his wife? I should tear your tongue out and throw it down the cliffs, so you can fetch it again yourself!**

**Schwesterherz—Sister dear**

**I know, the chapters are short, but I'm working on updates between mounds of homework. Life has caught up with me again. Hope the cliffhangers help. As always, you guys read and enjoy and I'll continue writing.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AC or its characters; Jameel and Ravenwatch are Krono's; Tancred and Gilbert belong to Nessa.

**Thanks to all who read and review. Also, the story will be upped to rating M in a few chapters, just as a forewarning so you lot can save it, bag it, tag it, whatever you have to so you don't have to do a special search. ^^**

The Crow Nest  
>November 1191<p>

Tancred watched the milling bodies, lying flat on his stomach beside Altair. The rest of the rescue party was a gaggle of Assassins the German hadn't taken the time or found the inclination to learn the names of. All that was foremost in his mind was getting his little brother back, as well as their friends. He was certain Gilbert would never forgive him if he left one of the others behind, especially the boy.

"How do you plan to infiltrate this place?" asked the Assassin Grandmaster as he kept an eye on the archers above.

"With a little help from you," Tancred whispered, "and a little help from them."

Drawing nearer to the wall, using the scrub brush as cover, the merchant pressed himself to the face of the wall and slid along until he found another suitable clump from which to spy on his quarry, one of the black-cloaked, feathered guards that patrolled the outer perimeter of the wall. He watched the Crow make a circuit, then leaped out as he went to perform the circuit again.

An arrow was nocked and drawn, but never loosed. Altair's blade sprang through the man's throat. The Assassin dragged the body into the cover as the merchant pulled on his robes and slipped into the fortress.

X x X

Lex was gasping as he was pulled into the barracks. There the fledglings applied more of the drug to Lex. As they tended to the new guy, the more experienced guards left. The fledglings milled about, unable to sit still properly, but eventually began to settle. Until tremors jerked Lex's limbs.

A horrible wheezing noise came from the young man's throat as images flashed through his mind sporadically: Malik's bloodied arm, reaching out to touch Desmond inside the Animus, sucking the poison from Jameel's shoulder, shoving his way through the crowded streets of Damas. The images increased in speed.

The darkness of being taught to fight blind, falling toward the hay from the top of the tower, running across Acre's roofs, Jameel kissing him. _Jameel..._ Tears rolled from his wide eyes as he turned his head and saw the ragged hole in his arm. Out from it poured maggots and leeches, gouts of clotted vomit and faceless demons. And then he was screaming. No words, just a scream, long and loud, stretching his vocal cords taut.

X x X

The boss was about to open Desmond's cell door when he heard, "Pssst. _Komische Voegel._" He abruptly moved to the German's cell, keeping his distance yet again.

"What do you want, guardsman?"

Desmond watched the two as closely as he could through the bars of his cell. Gilbert stood in his cell with his arms folded against his chest, much as he had since being put into the cell, but for the brief moment when they'd shot the Sparrow. The German had shoved against the bars of his cell when his little mentor had been dragged away, knocking the door of his cell a good few inches out of its mooring.

"You may be able to best these men with your tricks and concoctions, Old King Crow, but I don't think these things will work on me." The Novice leaned toward the bars and stared the Crow Grandmaster in his shiny lenses. "Why do you not come closer and see for yourself?"

"Do you think me dull?" the creature countered. "I did not become the Grandmaster of this operation from stupid decisions. We will test the mettle of your words... First, some unfinished business I must attend to." He slipped into Desmond's cell, needle in hand. From his cell, Jameel crammed his face against the bars. The Ravenwatch leader positioned himself before the door. He wasn't about to let Desmond escape. He raised the needle...

And then a scream rent the air and echoed through the halls, so loud and unexpected it made even the Grandmaster leap a good two feet into the air in shock. Gilbert flinched at the noise, eyes widening, before he recognized the voice and punched the door of his cell in frustration. A little shower of dust fell from the top of the threshold as the door moved further toward the outer edge. In his own cell, Jameel's blood seemed to disappear from his veins, evaporating in a chilling sweat that sprang to the back of his neck and the tips of his fingers from his palms.

For once in the last decade and several more years that had passed since his parents' death, the Assassin wanted to cry. _They dragged Lex off...I couldn't stop them...and now..._

There it was, the slightest hint of a distraction! The bartender threw himself at the man as soon as he jumped at the scream, grasping his arms and pinning them over his head as he threw him against the wall bodily, slamming his knee into his gut. He jerked back quickly and flew out the door.

Desmond raced down the corridor, his heart leaping into his mouth as he saw the only exit in front of him blocked, guarded by a pair of archers, each one armed with a pair of serrated-edged daggers. The Raven sprang up quickly to go fetch for the Eagle. The bartender suddenly bolted onto the wall and ran along it, throwing himself off and tackling the surprised guards down. He grabbed a dagger from one and stabbed it into his face, then shifted his grip and stabbed it into his partner. Picking up one of the discarded bows, holding the nearest arrow loosely against the wood as he jerked the keys from one of the corpses and jammed them into the door, turned the lock open. He then aimed the drawn arrow at the boss.

"Stay where you are!"

X x X

The screams had been silenced when the fledglings had administered a sedative to pacify him. Strange dreams plagued the young man as he lay in a cold, sweating half-sleep. He didn't dream, really, but snatches of...phrases and half-formed, blurry images accompanied them.

_"Fag..." He squinted toward the indistinct outlines of moving figures. What...? Who?_

_"I love you." Love who? Love...?_

_"It's mutual." What's...? A large shape, black and white and tan, with two bright blue specks in the swirling mess of brown._

Lex groaned as he opened his eyes. His head felt heavy and swollen. A strange taste was on his lips, one he knew but couldn't seem to name at the moment. He looked at the other fledglings confusedly, silent, puffy masses of black and white.

"Where am I?" He pushed himself up to a sit. _I need to...to do something. Something..._ He stood, wobbled. "I need to..." He swayed and fell back onto the floor.

X x X

As Desmond took his stance against the Grandmaster, five more of the black birds appeared behind him and proceeded to inject him with the drug. Desmond gasped, then doubled up and vomited, falling onto his knees. The boss grinned behind his mask.

"It is futile. Even if you kill one of us, five more will take his place. Join us instead. It'll be much more rewarding." The Grandmaster threw himself to one side as one of his ravens gave a squawk of alarm. Desmond did likewise, flattening himself to the wall as well as he could, another bout of nausea doubling up him a second later as the five archers were hit by the flying door.

The sound of meat hitting stone made the barkeep heave up the bile from his stomach once more as Gilbert ran down the hall. The German crouched beside Desmond, moving to pull him to his feet, when a sharp pain lanced into his back. The Grandmaster stood over them, driving some of the half emptied needles into the tall Novice's back, picking them up from where they'd fallen to the floor when his fledglings had been flattened.

_I know this feeling,_ Desmond thought as he stared at the black shapes beginning to surround them. He'd been stupid enough to have one before, back in his own time. _Acid. It's like an acid trip._ He staggered as the guards lifted him up and led him outside, Gilbert beside him. He let out a yell and struggled, forcing himself to look at his surroundings.

He was being led out of the castle and toward a set of barracks. The barracks were attached to a castle by a bridge. The bridge between did show the night sky, though, and he forced himself to look at this. The stars wheeled overhead and the ground and sky swapped places. The bartender fell into a stupor as he was dropped into the barracks, but there was a lingering smirk on his face.

While they passed over the bridge, Gilbert looked around as well. Across the way from the barracks, on a protruding section of wall that looked especially built to hold a training ring. A few of the Ravenwatch novices were sparring there against one another, learning how to fight like monsters. Their weapons were the savage, serrated daggers, drawing blood wherever they touched, the drug seeming to make them uncaring of their wounds to belly, face, and limbs.

The ring was set in front of a raised statue of a crow in profile. As they drew nearer to the barracks, Gilbert could make out beneath the crow in large letters what he guessed to be the Ravenwatch slogan: Hunt or Be Hunted.

_If this madness keeps up, we just might end up seeing what they see,_ he worried.

Once the two prisoners were brought into the barracks, the three men were dressed by the fledglings in black, the feathered cloaks, and white masks, a single, long, black pheasant feather secured into all three sets of hair. Gilbert moved to Desmond where he lay crumpled on the ground, dragging the man none too gently over to where the little Sparrow had been left.

Another fledgling was crouched beside the boy, keeping an eye on them, it seemed. Lex turned over onto his stomach, moaning. He gasped as the fledgling beside him took him into his arms.

"_La. La. Emshi. La,_" the boy whimpered, struggling weakly. Gilbert half-rose, only stopping when he heard from the fledgling, "Shhh, _Jungchen_."

"Tancred?" asked the German, keeping his voice low as possible. His brother looked up from beneath his brows and mask, giving a barely perceptible nod. "What are you doing here?"

"I come to help. I bring friends."

"What do we do now?"

"Can you shake these boys out of their stupor?"

"Yes. Then we move?"

"Then we move. Come." The two men stood their comrades on their feet and brought them to the edge of the doorway. First, Desmond was led outside. The barkeep shuddered as he curled up on the spot and gritted his teeth. Breathing deeply, he sought to drive the poison from his body. The other fledglings continued to spar. The men bowed their heads as a Ravenwatch member with plenty of long, black feathers on his head appeared. It was a Master. He was keeping a watch on the Novices. Mostly on Desmond.

He passed by quickly enough to return to watching the sparring fledglings. Desmond got to his feet and moved into the barracks, dragging Lex out. Once outside, the man covered the Journeyman's mouth as he began to babble, forcing his head up so that he looked at the sky. Lex shuddered as he rocked silently in Desmond's arms, sweat running in thick runnels down his skin.

Desmond leaned down and breathed into the Sparrow's ear, "Find Jameel. Find him." Lex flicked his eyes toward him as the Master stalled by them again. Tancred moved back a little from the man, keeping his eyes lowered. The Master tilted his head slightly at the fledglings, but left them be once more. The German let out a breath and hissed, "Go. Now. Go."

Lex slipped away as soon as the Master had moved on. The men looked at each other and nodded. Time to put the plan into action.

X x X

It had started with being startled. All Jameel had been able to do was watch as they dragged both Gilbert and Desmond off. Then the Grandmaster's face had appeared in front of his cell like some demented beaky ghost.

He was sure he heard a smirk in his voice when he had said, "Well, the elusive Red Owl. Torturing you will be fun. First...to soften you up in that cell."

He had moved away, his lackeys filling the corridor for a time after the Novices had been taken away to make sure they couldn't double back or do anything else stupid like trying to escape. They would have been piled upon and brought down by sheer numbers.

Jameel knew he wasn't faring well. How could he be? His brother Assassin had been taken captive and it was his fault. His legs and arms were completely chained down; a set of flunkies had returned to complete this task and he'd managed to make the one swallow a few teeth before he was restrained. At least the Grandmaster had the honor of leaving him his clothes.

Except what he did was much worse.

A tiny dart had been stuck in his shoulder. Its contents left him in shrieking agony, dizzy and vomiting like mad. The Assassin's veins felt like they were on fire, as if someone had dropped him into a hot forge. No ounce of pain he'd been trained for over his career as an Assassin even came close to this. All he could do was scream, and worse yet he knew the Grandmaster loved every ragged note of it.

The Red Owl lifted his head as something bright came into his blurry vision. He flinched back as well as he could against the cool stone behind him, groaning, "Get away from me! No more!"

The white beak lifted a little higher, small hands gripping at the bars. "I said get away!" Jameel snarled raggedly.

"_Ahhlass, ahbal!_" He jerked his head up a little more at the words, the world listing to one side. He knew those words. Hadn't he used them before? The Red Owl squinted, moving forward far as the chains would allow, seeking the face beneath the mask in the torchlight. Their eyes met for a moment.

Jameel paled as a shadow blocked the meager light and the small form from view; the boss had shown up behind the curious interloper. He shoved the other black clad figure up against the door. Still dragging himself out of the trip, Lex swore he wet himself at the sight of the creature before him. It was something come squarely out a Guillermo del Toro nightmare funhouse, something to obey or be eaten alive.

Velociraptor teeth were protruding from the beak, a snake tongue flicking out from between the beak's two halves. Each fissure and crease in the mask material became a glaring eye to go along with those golden ones. He imagined if he were to rip the mask off there would be no eyes, only wrinkled, papery flesh and a mouth full of those same teeth. Claws were grasping his shoulders. His feathery headdress had become some sort of demented set of head wings.

"What are you doing outside of the barracks? Back to your training, fledgling. You're in my way."

_Sa'idni, Allah..._ was all the Sparrow could think.

X x X

The rescue party began its advance. Altair's scout had gone ahead, checking to make sure the men were even alive. There they stood by the barracks, just as Tancred had assured him. The Assassins charged.

Defenses were immediately mobilized on the outside of the village, the townspeople taking to arms. On the top of one of the towers lining the walls was a catapult. It was loaded and loosed, raining fiery, tar coated rock down on the advancing group.

Altair shifted his mount as the projectiles came their way. The Assassins spread themselves out as they crossed the plain. The Grandmaster of the Assassins peeled to one side as the others continued to move forward and split toward various sections of the castle wall.

Bracing himself against the face of the wall, Altair slipped through the door Tancred had left ajar. The Master Assassin was immediately forced to dispatch a townsman who opened his mouth to sound the alarm. Well, this rescue was going to be very interesting.

X x X

Desmond listened to the chaos going on around the barracks and went over to the bridge. He gazed out across one side, then the other. Looked up at the sky again.

"Huh." The other two men came over and peered along the side. Down below, they saw a series of stout poles protruding from the wall, used for aids in climbing training. Desmond then turned to the others. Shrugging, he let himself slip over the wall. He flipped until his feet were angled downward, then caught hold of the first pole as soon as it came within reach of his hands, spinning around it a few times to slow himself before hopping one, two, three down to the ground.

Once down, he busied himself with hiding against the nearest building's shadowed wall and waiting for the others. The German brothers took their sweet time getting down, it felt to him, but once they were down the trio set off toward the gates to where Tancred had said Altair would be.

Meanwhile, the castle's exterior was alive with arrows, the stars blotted out by a deluge of solid black shafts. Bombs, glass, and barbed arrows were everywhere the escapees looked. It seemed the Novices had been called to arms as well, as they saw some of the single-feathered heads rushing by them.

The entire castle was in an uproar. Hell had broken loose, and it had its eyes on the distracting rescue party outside.

Altair was on high alert as he crouched behind the building nearest the escape route, stabbing anyone unlucky enough to cross his path from behind. This was what made him almost stab his descendant when a hand was put on his shoulder and his name was said.

"Jesus Christ, man!" Desmond hissed. The bartender's ancestor blinked before sheathing his blade and smacking him upside the head. "Ow! God!"

"Where are Jameel and Lex?"

"Jameel and Lex are thataway." He pointed to the keep.

"We'll return with them." The two Eagles looked at Tancred and Gilbert. It was the Falcon who'd spoken. "I swear, we'll return with them, no matter how many of these black cloaks must be shoved aside to do so."

The four nodded to one another and parted ways, the Germans heading up the wall and into the keep. Tancred eased himself through the passageway before he whispered, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How is it that you weren't drugged?"

"They didn't have enough to drug me." The pair took a turn in the staircase and stalled, looking around. "Have we gone the wrong way?"

"I'm not the one who was in here before." The merchant looked around and pointed. "Let's try this way." The two took a flight of steps and descended into a small mess hall. Squinting in the low light, Tancred moved closer to the table, not seeing the sleeping Crow there. Literally squawking as he was jostled, the feather-bedecked man drew one of his daggers.

But his aim wasn't as sure as the terror-fueled informant, who grasped the nearest thing to hand and jammed it deep into the would-be attacker's eye. The Crow slumped to the floor. Grabbing one of the torches, Gilbert moved over to them. The man lay twitching on the floor, a spoon shoved through his eye.

"Well, _Bruderherz_, I think you've discovered the newest generation of Assassin weaponry." Tancred crossed himself.

"God only knows what I'd be able to do with a butter knife and a strong tankard of ale, Gilbert."

X x X

Lex flinched as something dug into his arm when he was pushed aside by the Grandmaster. Two pairs of hands—guards—materialized from the shadows and took him by the shoulder as the head Raven whistled. The Journeyman staggered in place as he began to feel a drowsiness slipping over him.

The boss entered the cell and let the door slam shut behind him. The screaming began again as Lex was pulled down the hall. He struggled weakly. _Burn it off!_ his mind screamed. _Burn it off!_ He planted his feet against the stairs leading up toward the bridge and threw himself to one side, knocking the guards holding him off balance. Grabbing one of each of the guards' daggers, he planted them into their owners' throats.

The small Assassin looked at the corpses stupidly before he dropped one of the daggers and staggered down toward the cells once again. The screams grew louder as he drew closer, breaking through the haze that was threatening to fog over his mind. The young man threw himself into the shadows as the uproar reached them, sending some of the guards skittering and clattering down to their Master.

The screams faded as the boss stopped the torment and listened to them, fleeing to the inner sanctum of the castle. Jameel was left hanging, doused in sweat, fever wracking his bruised body. The Owl opened his eyes as he felt something moving at his ankles. The little fledgling stood up from the crouch he'd been in, picking the locks of the manacles at his wrists until they fell away.

The Master Assassin sagged against him as he was released. The Sparrow lowered him to the floor gently.

"Do you only get yourself half-killed on days that end in Y in English, Jameel?" asked the fledgling as he shed the ridiculous mask, making toward the hole in the man's shoulder and clothing that had been left by the dart to do as he'd done between Acre and Damascus.

Jameel grasped his wrist.

"Don't do that..."

"But you've been—"

"Arsenic."

"What?" His head rattled as the cry echoed around the cell. "Then why won't you—"

"The arsenic is already taking its course. It wasn't a large amount. The only thing I can do is weather against it."

"You'd better weather it out, or else I'll resurrect you, kick your ass until you're dead, kill myself, then kick your ass in whatever hell we end up in. As far as I know it'll look like Tunisia." Jameel winced as Lex lifted him up to a sit, giving the smaller man a weary stare. "What?"

"Why the hell were you wearing that mask anyway?" He leaned their brows together, keeping up the stare despite being unable to really lift his head for the shivers rattling his limbs. "I thought you were lost."

"They put us in them. Believe me, it wasn't my idea. I may not be a fashion guru, but even I know that plague doctor masks are not my style." Jameel opened his mouth to ask Lex to speak sense for the sake of what little of his brain remained lucid to him, but the sound of something snapping overhead stilled his tongue.

It was followed in quick succession by several more snaps. Jameel threw himself over Lex as yells sounded from outside the cells, growing louder as the roof began to cave in after whatever intruders had set off the trap. Clutching the Sparrow to his chest as he ducked his head down in case their own room fell victim to the crush of stones, the Red Owl attempted to pierce the cloud of debris and dust to see who'd been stupid enough to set off such a trap.

Not that he could blame them. The Grandmaster of this hell castle was still alive. _And if he still lives, so does Ravenwatch._

As the dust fell to the floor, the four men looked at each other, Jameel and Lex still one atop the other, Gilbert and Tancred looking like children who'd thought to play as ghosts by decorating themselves with flour. Lex sat up and helped Jameel to his feet as the brothers began to clear a path around the pile of stones. It took several minutes, what felt like hours to the men, until they were sure a safe passage had been carved out.

"Take him." Lex handed Jameel over to Gilbert. Tancred stalked over to Lex and prodded him in the nose.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going then, _Jungchen_?" The look the merchant was given made him take a back step.

"I'm going to kill the filthy shit what thought he could hurt him and get away with it." The Sparrow took off down the hall as the Falcon hauled a wriggling, quivering Jameel onto his back and hurried out with Tancred.

Jameel managed a sigh. Manhandled again. _Oh, how I hate this._ Half awake though he was, unable to tell just where he was being carried off to like so much grain in a sack, he managed, "Idiot... Get that idiot out of there...He's going up against a Grandmaster." Raising his voice as the Germans picked up the pace, he all but shouted, "Don't you get it? He's going to get himself killed!"

He flinched as a hand fell on his shoulder. Desmond's.

"He won't die," said the Novice. "He's your idiot, Owl." Jameel barely registered whatever else Desmond babbled on about.

"I don't think you understand the dire situation he's in," he countered. "That Grandmaster will try to twist him into something he isn't. After he's finished..." The Red Owl was halted for a moment by a thick stream of vomit, his body spasming as he was lowered down to the ground. The smell of horse sweat and soaked leather reached his nose and made him even less able to hold the bile down.

The Grandmaster had broken him down to the point of death. Even though many times he had been ready to die, the leader of Ravenwatch wouldn't allow it. It was a fine line to traverse, and the black clad monster had done it with flawless grace. It was that fine line that broke people. Still, he'd said nothing.

Jameel clenched a bunch of earth in his trembling fist, the sound of the gunshot from the dungeons echoing in his ears, the feeling of helpless anger welling up in his breast as his palm itched with the remembered feeling of the little Journeyman being torn from his grasp and dragged away. Equally helpless. Unable to even stand. And he was running toward the very thing that had plagued him for years; the ravens were merely the hunting birds, the Grandmaster the one who chose whether or not to let slip the jesses. _Why didn't you come with me, you stupid child?_

"After he's finished, the Lex we know may not exist." The man forced himself onto his feet, knees all but buckling as he did. "The worst thing you can do to someone is break them, then let them loose to stagger around on their own." He grasped Desmond's robes. Desmond looked back at him.

"Did he managed to break you?"

"I don't know." Jameel tried to shake off the feeling that nagged him, an odd feeling of instability, his head feeling packed in wool. The feeling wouldn't budge. Why had the sky and ground reversed? Everything was upside down, even though he felt himself to be right side up. _Drugged. They've drugged me. Again. Damn it!_ "Desmond, you said he's my idiot. Well, then if you value your life at all, get my idiot back!"

X x X

Lex crawled forward, down on hands and knees, weaving his way through a series of tunnels. Standing in a large chamber, he squinted around. Torches lined the walls. He took a cautious step forward, only to jerk himself back as the floor fell away.

_Yep, spiky hidden death trap,_ he thought as he stared down at the fate that awaited the unfortunates who'd gone careering ahead. Edging his way around the ledge ringing the room, he stalled beneath a torch long enough to look at one of the rotting corpses. Yes, this one was fresh, and whether the man had drowned—a good amount of water lined the bottom of the pit—or the stabbing had done him in was hard to tell. _What is this, the Temple of Doom Mediaeval?_

The Sparrow hurried on through the corridor and stalled as he came to another wall. Above, a trap door was held shut. _...You have got to be shitting me._ Dashing up the wall, he threw himself into the open space and grasped the rope dangling there, scurrying up and grabbing the rail of the broken staircase above and hauling himself up.

Standing, he pushed open the trap door and made his way to the hall beyond. He stopped as he came to a room with five dark hallways branching from it. _Does this guy have this much time on his hand? I mean really!_ Walking backwards, he made a slash mark on the wall with his dagger. _Which way would he've gone? ...Y'know what? This is stupid._ He took the path ahead of him at a run.

Lex halted sharply as he looked at the floor before him. The ground sloped away sharply, almost like a slide, dropping toward...he couldn't see what. _Does this guy somehow have Prince of Persia? God!_ He threw himself down the slide, half crouching until his foot caught on a sharp edge of part that might had been once damaged in an earthquake. The Sparrow tumbled head over ass until he scraped his arm along the slide wall and righted himself enough to catch himself on the lip of the ledge below.

Sighing, he looked up toward where the stairs led this time. Blessedly, it was a lit room. _Mashallah._ Standing, knees aching from where he'd hit them on the fall down, cheek stinging as well, he mounted the stairs and stepped into the room, gripping the stolen dagger in his hand after he pulled it from his belt.

The Grandmaster stood on one of the platforms that was chained to the wall. Several surrounded the room, going up, up, up into the darkness of the ceiling somewhere beyond. Below were waterfalls—Lex couldn't bother his brain with asking questions like "Which river feeds those? The Jordan? Or does he have an irrigation system just for this stupid effect?"—falling into the pit below. The roar was almost deafening.

"If you're expecting me to rip off Inigo Montoya in full, you're sorely out of luck. I don't have time to inform you of the myriad facts you don't care about, other than you are indeed going—and should be prepared—to die." With that, the Sparrow threw himself onto the first platform. The Grandmaster leaped back onto the next, slashing at Lex with a saber drawn from beneath his cloak as the Journeyman tried to follow him.

Shoving himself up onto the wood, Lex barely had time to avoid a stabbing lunge from the man. "Shit, shit, shit!" He flailed at the edge before snapping himself back upright and rolling forward, slashing toward the Grandmaster's legs. The man hopped up onto the next, crowing his amusement.

"You've come to kill me? Why haven't you done so, useless fledgling? You couldn't defend him and now you can't defend yourself." Their blades locked for a moment; he stared into the golden disks of his eyes. "Let me make you a prediction. Your city will fall—oh, yes, the Assassins will scatter as surely as chaff on the wind—and we will roost in your houses and our pets on your eaves!"

"Will you shut up and die already?" Lex lunged forward, aiming to put the dagger into the Grandmaster's throat. The man turned and fled up, up, up, and out of sight. Lex jumped up to the next platform and spotted the Crow, only to see what was waiting for him. More guards covering the boss' escape. Two of them had his and Desmond's guns, the third a bomb arrow.

"Shit!" Lex beat a hasty path backward, hissing as a bullet pierced his leg. Blood pooled quickly, soaking his pants leg down onto the wound. _I'm starting to think making those was a bad idea._ He hurried forward then as the guards came for him, instinctively following their quarry, tackling the closest man as one of the bullets scored a line in his side, his dagger planted up to the hilt in the Crow's throat.

He grasped the gun the dead man had on him and shot twice, caught the bomb archer in the kneecap and stomach. The Sparrow raised the pistol and looked down its length at the last man. "Drop it. I'll put this bullet between your eyes, I swear to God. Drop it!" _Just drop it. Lemme get rid of it. Lemme drop it down there into the water and go kill that guy with my bare hands or leave if I can't find him. C'mon..._

The Journeyman wanted to turn and drag himself back out of the room, get back up to the air, or through whatever else was waiting for him outside of this room. _Would my dying here screw up anything in the future? Hell, couldn't it be that this shit is screwing up the future at this very moment? Oh, God, how would_ that _be remedied? Getting rid of the guns? Myself dying? The boss escaping?_

The gun shook in his hands.

_I should've just kept running that day... I should've just kept running..._

The Crow kept his place for a moment before dropping the gun and running after his Master. Self-preservation must have been one of the sensible things the drug left alone. The Journeyman limped over to the abandoned weapon and picked it up, tossing the both of them into the pit below. He waited until he heard a splash before making his way precariously back to the solid patch of ground he'd come from. Even if his leg hadn't been injured, he saw it would have taken more skill than he had, or someone with longer legs, to reach the other, higher platforms.

Lex made his way through the castle, confusing himself with the twists and turns before he finally came out in front of the cells he and the others had escaped from. Getting out from there was all a matter of using his eyes and what little will power he had left to shamble up and down the stair cases of the complex and out onto the free ground.

Once far enough away, he shed the rest of the cumbersome feathers.

Lex lifted his head as he heard pounding feet coming toward him, having been focused on putting one foot slightly in front of the other. Desmond gave him a cursory once over before the barkeep knelt down and tore a swatch from his black tunic, using it to bind the Sparrow's leg.

Taking him by the arm, he helped Lex over to where Gilbert stood with Altair and the others. He leaned against the horse by his side and looked up at the Grandmaster and Jameel. One look at Jameel's face told him everything he needed to know. "Altair, get him down." Jameel sat grasping the saddle for dear life, his limbs shuddering uncontrollably, jaw clenched.

The Master Assassin dismounted and, with Gilbert and Desmond's help, lowered the other man to the ground. Jameel immediately began to squirm, a loud scream issuing from his mouth. He thrashed and swatted at something in the air. Fighting back crows only he could see.

There were dozens of them, hundreds of them, all wanting to poke out his eyes and tear out his tongue.

"Get away from me, you stupid birds! My eyes are not yours! Get away!" In some part of his mind, some hindmost part that argued for sense, he knew that some other substance besides arsenic was in the dart, that he was more than likely a test dummy for some new Ravenwatch concoction. He knew they weren't real.

They looked it, though. He continued to scream, for he could feel himself being torn apart bit by bit by black beaks.

"What the hell did they give him?" Lex stammered, looking at the others, at a loss.

"We have to get him home. There's no use in trying to treat him here," said Altair, mounting up once more. Tancred and his brother helped get the raving Assassin into the saddle. Lex climbed up after him and looped his arms around him to keep him as still as possible as Desmond took the reins to lead the horse.

The group started back toward the Assassins' city.

After a half hour of muttering and lashing out, Lex scurried around in front of Jameel and sat backward in the saddle; he took him by the shoulders and gave the Master Assassin a vicious shake. "Snap out of it, Jameel, there aren't any birds around!"

"Birds, birds, birds... So many crows..." Jameel groaned. He giggled maniacally as he looked at Lex. "So many, little bird..." His entire body shook so that Lex had to clamp down on him, fearing he would tumble out of the saddle otherwise. The visions had taken on a downright absurd hilarity to the man. The crows were flying past them, above them, under them, and occasionally through them. Their constant cries were banging on his ears. He swayed a little, gripping at the Sparrow's back to steady himself, then made a hoarse cawing noise in time with the blasted nuisances fluttering around them.

Lex shuddered at the noise coming from the Red Owl's mouth. He knew one thing for certain: crows would never be looked at the same way again by any of them after that.

**Jungchen = little lad**

**Sa'idni, Allah… = Help me, God…**

**Thank you all for loving this story so much that it's come to twenty-six chapters. ^^ You must know the drill by now: keep loving and more will come. Thank you all again, dear readers.**

**P.S. None of us ever thought the story would become shirt-worthy of all things, but my reviewer and friend Tobi has decided to make Team Lexeel (yes, that's Lex x Jameel) shirts. ^^; To ask Tobi about the design and all the technicalities of sizing and such, as well as other things like just stopping in to check out her beautiful artwork, go talk to her on her DA account. Her name on there is IceeKing. :3**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AC or anything that is AC's. Jameel is Krono's. Tancred and Gilbert are Nessa's.

**A big thank you to everyone who's read the story thus far, as well as Storm for her latest review. And now, without (much) further ado, the chapter a lot of you have probably been waiting for.**

Masyaf  
>Late November to December, 1191<p>

Lex tightened his grip as they picked up the pace, the horse shifting into a gallop. The cawing sound coming from the Owl made him want to just drop under the hooves of the mount right there, but he didn't. Doubtless they were all getting a bit freaked out by this.

"Yeah, crows. Biggest blackbirds you'll ever see in your life. Freakier than ever, huh?" he murmured, unable to decide whether it would be best to put his hands over Jameel's ears, eyes, or mouth.

Jameel cawed again, a demented grin on his face. He was going mad, watching the world dissolve before his eyes into black feathers and beaks. The faster they rode, the more things started to blur, becoming one big, crowing entity. _They won't shut up!_ The Master Assassin wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. He tried covering his ears, but it only served to marginally muffle the crowing; he clawed at them.

"They won't stop crowing... Make them stop..." The Sparrow reached up and covered his ears. Jameel clamped onto his hands with his own so that Lex was afraid for a minute that some of his fingers might come away broken when he let go. Ahead of them, Desmond tightened his hold on the reins as the mountains came into view. Altair touched his descendant's shoulder.

"I'll ride ahead and inform Malik of what's happened." The barkeep nodded, then looked to the two Germans. The brothers nodded as well and the Grandmaster rode on. As this was going on, Jameel's birds had stopped crowing and resorted to staring at their victim. Each one of them had shiny, golden yellow coins for eyes.

One of the crows began to cackle at him. The other crows followed in with laughter of their own.

"They won't stop... Just...won't stop... How they stare, how they laugh..." Jameel made a low, whining noise as Lex's hands were removed from his ears, the mad chuckling filling his hearing in full. Lex tore a piece of black cloth from his tunic and tied it over his eyes, wincing as the man dug his nails into his back.

"It's just like night training, remember?" asked the younger man as he replaced his hands once more over the Red Owl's ears. The blindfold made the illusions no better. He may not have been able to see them, but he could still hear them. _Laughing. That's always it. They're always laughing._ He couldn't block it out; the laughter wasn't in his ears, but echoing in his head. Jameel rocked back and forth in the saddle, trying to maintain some scrap of sanity. "Jameel, remember that, night training in the courtyard? How Dessy kept running into the wall?"

"Night training... Night... Birds... Birds... So many birds, laughing at me..." Jameel screamed through gritted teeth. "Stop laughing at me!"

"Make him hold on a little longer, _Spaetzlein_, we're almost there!" called Gilbert. Lex worked his way up onto his knees, pulling the blindfold up from Jameel's eyes and looking into them.

"Don't look at them. Don't listen to them. Don't even think about 'em. Think about here. Here, right now, right in front of you." He leaned up and kissed him deeply, keeping a tight hold on him as he rocked.

Jameel shook as the laughter faded away. It was like he'd started awake from a bad dream and only just realized that it was over. Everything started to come into focus as they passed through the gates of the Assassins' village. If Desmond had noticed, he would have told him the future jargon for what had happened: the trip was over. The drug had burned itself out.

_That was...terrible. So much power into such a simple mixture._ Jameel shuddered at the possibility of ever having to go through something similar again. _The Ravenwatch Grandmaster has too much power in his hands. He has to be stopped somehow._ His thoughts petered out as he felt his lips return the kiss. Lex pulled back as Desmond dismounted and went to see what was taking Altair and Malik so long, saying to the other Novice, who didn't look half as perplexed as his brother, "Take care of them until I get back."

Gilbert nodded and settled a hand on the merchant's shoulder. Tancred turned to face him, mouth open. He shut it with a soft click.

"No, brother," said the Novice with a small shake of his head, "it's not just the sailors who do these things."

"You're okay now, right?" His eyes flicked back to the one sitting in front of him. Lex met his eyes, a tremor passing through him as he pulled the Owl into a fierce embrace and allowed himself to relax. It was then that the full impact of the last few hours, and his wounds, fell on him. "Shit...shit..." He grasped at the Master Assassin weakly as he began to fall off the horse.

He braced to hit the ground, but a pair of arms stopped his fall.

"_Ich habe dich, du halbe Portion._" Lex looked over at Tancred as the merchant took him carefully down the rest of the way as Gilbert reached up and helped Jameel dismount. The Red Owl nearly fell off of the horse himself. _What a trip this has been... Castles and birds and poisons and guns..._

Halfway up the slope to the keep, they were met by Malik, Altair, and Desmond. The men continued on to the infirmary together. Desmond pulled up a chair as the servants began to tend to all of them. Gilbert set Jameel on the bed as Tancred did likewise with Lex.

Lex blanched as one of the servants came over to him and stripped off his clothes to get at the bullet wounds beneath. Now that the last of the adrenaline had worn off, he felt groggy and nauseous, especially at the sight of where he'd been shot.

"Nobody's cutting my limbs off. I swear to—to—God! God!" He screamed as an instrument that was more blacksmiths tongs than doctor's forceps was thrust into his leg and the bullet extracted. Malik quickly stuffed a bit of sheet into his mouth for him to bite down on. Despite the supposed help he was being given with this treatment, the pain was still great. After the device was taken from his arm, Lex dropped onto his back and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Jameel sighed as the cries finally abated, a hand reaching over to stroke the smaller man's head. His eyes found Desmond, who was being looked over by Malik for any possible adverse effects left by the drug he'd been given, before moving to Lex. His eyes fell to where the Novice and informant were treating their minor wounds and finally onto Altair. The Grandmaster Eagle looked him over once.

"How are you feeling, old friend? Well enough now?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly, Altair?" A nod. "I've been beaten, poisoned, and had to watch those I care for receive much the same treatment by a madman with feathers for hair. I feel like shit, in short, and I would much appreciate it if you left me in peace and asked this question again when my legs and arms aren't numb so I can hit you properly for asking it." The Red Owl had made his point well. He looked as ragged as he said he felt. The aftermath of the drug would be as killer as the beginning and during stages and he was stretched to his absolute limit as it was. _I need to call mercy here. Anymore of this punishment and I will go mad._

"What about getting us home?" asked Desmond suddenly. The other men looked at the younger Eagle. "Those crystals we took from Ephesus might get us back. We should be testing them. They could be our only way home." Tancred was the first to reach Jameel to push him down to the bed, but it took Gilbert's help to get him to lie back.

The Red Owl had mustered the last vestiges of his strength sit upright and snarl, "Desmond, we're not testing it now. We're not testing it here. And I'll be thrice damned if you so much as mention those things in my presence again while I'm confined to the same room as you, and you'll be short a tongue!" Silence reigned as the man gave the lot of conscious Assassins a baleful glare before falling asleep.

"Well, Novice, get to your haystack." Desmond glowered at the one-armed Master as Malik smirked. "You don't want to be in his way if he needs to relieve himself, do you?" Grumbling, the barkeep stood and went to his hay. Like it or not, it was a good idea. _Enough of this shit. I'm going to sleep too._

_Two days. Two days is not long enough,_ he thought to himself as he made his way step by painful, pins-and-needles step toward his room. The other Masters had begun to harry him after the first day of sleep. Jameel gripped the wall and dug in with his nails. That night, he had asked Gilbert to send for his wife.

"Take him to my quarters, please," he'd said, gesturing to where the Sparrow had lain curled on his side. "I'd do it myself, but..." He held up his fists and closed them, opening them again. They felt fat and useless. "I'll follow as quickly as I'm able."

"I would offer my services, _Sayyid,_" the woman had responded, bowing her head. "At least until your companion is well enough to nurse you himself." Jameel had accepted, however grudgingly. At least Sarah wasn't unfamiliar with the art of silence. Now it was taking every ounce of concentration and will left in him to make the familiar walk to his room.

Jameel finally staggered through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him. Fortune favored him at least in that his body was healing faster than the arsenic could break it down. He would be good as new in no time, however long no time would be. For now, little to no energy was required for sleeping. _That's all I want. To sleep._ He dropped to the bed and promptly blacked out again into the void behind his eyelids. His sleep had been mercifully dreamless since his crow hallucination.

Lex sighed as he woke and looked at the sunlit ceiling. This gray, stone ceiling was more familiar than the ceiling of his old bedroom, he realized. _What the hell did that one look like again?_ He reached back in his mind for the image. White, that was the color. White from painted plaster, white like the Assassin's tunics. White because he hadn't wanted to paint it the same color as the rest of his room. Taking a roller to the ceiling would've been too much of a hassle.

The Sparrow opened his eyes and turned them, letting his head follow. First to the right. There was the wall. To the left, and he felt his neck pop. _Oww._ There was Jameel, asleep, one hand on his shoulder, head pressed down against his neck. He reached over and settled a hand on the Owl's head, a smile then allowed to creep onto his features. _What do we look like without bandages and splints and crap?_ he wondered silently.

Jameel alternated his first week of healing between the dark void of his dreamless rounds of sleep. It was slightly unnerving to go from complete, utter blackness and nothing to the almost dazzlingly bright reality of his room, but he supposed it was for the best. After a week, he'd almost become used to it.

During the week, he'd often caught Lex watching him as he slept. The Journeyman's eyes were usually glued to his chest, as if he feared that it might stop its steady rise and fall if he looked away for a single moment. _Does he piss out the window or not at all?_ the Master Assassin wondered once after waking to see the other male dancing on the spot, one eye on him, the other on the door, his legs clamped together, one hand over them. He was doing so now—watching, not dancing like a fool-albeit dozily.

The younger man blinked his dry eyes as he felt a hand against his cheek.

"Lex," said a voice he half-heard.

"Hm? Jameel?" he croaked, finally recognizing who was speaking to him. The tall man's face came into focus piece by piece: hair, eyes, nose, mouth, the rest. "Whazzup? We under attack? Desmond drinking cactus juice?"

"You don't have to watch me. I'm not the only one in need of rest."

"That an order?"

"Merely a suggestion." Lex smiled lopsidedly as he felt a set of lips brush against his cheek. "_Tnam, habibi._" He nodded, cheeks dusted pink, as he continued to have the world's most futile staring contest with the Owl for a few minutes before his eyes shut. No matter how much he wanted to stay up, his body refused. _Weary, that's the word,_ he thought before his brain shut the book on his thoughts. _Yeah. Weary..._

Gilbert watched the snow drift down. The wind had died down since that night's storm, during which they'd succeeded in getting Desmond out of his haystack and into their guest room. Even if he, his wife, and Amir had to pile the floor with hay so that the man would stop whimpering and looking out the window toward the barbican like a lost dog.

The Novice stood and went to where Amir stumbled from his room, rubbing his eyes. The white streak in his hair was bright against his black hair, made brighter by the reflected sunlight from the white drifts outside. Taking the boy by the hand, he led him to where his wife usually knelt to give her prayers.

Once the family had been reunited after his return to Masyaf, Gilbert had taken time to get to know the adoptive son Malik had provided him. The boy didn't know how to read or write or pray, but Gilbert had seen how fearless he was. The night before Air had done a cartwheel off the wooden watchtower before running back home. The Novice had decided to set to remedying the last as Malik did the other two.

Kneeling with Amir, Gilbert the small crucifix from around his neck and held it between his clasped hands. He bowed his head and shut his eyes. Amir watched him for a moment before mimicking the position.

"Repeat after me, _Tannenmeise_," he murmured. "_Vater unser der Du bist im Himmel..._"

"_Vater...unser...der Du bist im Himmel..._" Amir repeated.

"_Geheiligt werde Dein Name, Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel als auch auf Erden._"

The prayer continued on until both said, "Amen." Gilbert opened his eyes and looked at Amir, who was smiling at him widely. The German settled a hand on the boy's head, looking up quickly when he heard something muffled outside. Standing, he looked toward his brother as Tancred came over to them, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Which bastard out there is murdering our language?" groaned the merchant as he swiped at his face. "Let me have them, Brother, I'll see them out of our way." He opened the door and looked down at the boy who stood there, humming, "_Oh, tannenbaum, oh, tannenbaum, wie_—Oh, hey, Tancred."

"What in God's name are you doing out here in the cold? And why are you singing about a tree of all things?" The merchant blinked as the boy simply smiled at him. "Well? Has resting up from that insanity with the Black Cloaks addled your brain?"

"Dude, don't you know what day it is?" Lex stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright. For a moment, the man wondered if the boy hadn't done so himself, or if he was simply taken with fever. "It's Christmas!" He held out a package. "Merry Christmas, man." The merchant stared at the package. "It's a present, stupid. Take it."

Tancred snatched up the package with a muttered series of curses until he'd pushed aside the parchment that wrapped the gift and found inside sticks of hashish. Well, they looked like sticks of hashish. The Assassins' herb had been rolled up inside of small pieces of parchment. He smirked into his beard. "These are for smoking?" A nod. "My personal use, I take it, unless I'm feeling generous?" Another nod. Lex was lifted from the snow briefly as an arm looped around him. "_Dankeschoen, Jungchen._"

"_Ahk!_" The next moment the Sparrow was on the floor, hugging onto Amir, the boy having tackled him down.

"Easy, _ahk al-sagheer_. I'm still getting better." He ruffled up the other's hair. "Can I see Gilbert for a minute?"

"What's going on?" Gilbert asked as he helped Lex up. Lex held out a small bag.

"Merry Christmas, Gilly."

"More _Lebkuchen_?" Gilbert blanched.

"I used your mom's recipe this time. Don't worry. They won't spontaneously combust on your face or anything," said Lex, hands held up as well as could be with the bag still clutched in one.

"What'd you say, kid?" Desmond poked his head from where he had been in his hay.

"Merry Christmas, Dessy-Desmond."

"Christmas? It's Christmas already?" The Novice sighed and walked over to where the other time traveler stood. He stooped and pulled him into a quick hug. "Thanks for reminding me, kid. Lex." Lex looked up at a tug on his hood. Amir pouted at him as if to say, "Where's my present?" Lex held out his arms again, offering another hug. The boy buried himself into his chest as he hugged onto him. The Sparrow looked up at Sarah, who'd come over to see just what was going on. He smiled and freed one of his arms from Amir, inviting her in. "C'mon, Sis."

"Where's my love?" Desmond whined.

"Shut up, you have your hay," said Tancred flatly as he watched Lex turn toward the door.

"Where are you going, _Spaetzlein_?"

"Gotta give Jameel his present, don't I?" Lex grinned and took off toward the keep, slogging through the shin-deep snow.

"That boy is an odd one, Yameen, but I see why you like him," said Sarah as she and her husband watched his mentor walk off.

X x X

"Merry Christmas, Jameel." The Master Assassin lowered his book and lifted a brow languidly. It had taken weeks, but finally he was fighting fit and healed. It was a blessing to be able to touch something and not have his fingers tingle from the poison that had been put into his veins. When he had felt himself strong enough, the man had gone out and performed a Leap of Faith for the first time in...what, a month? Maybe two? Three at most?

It felt good to stretch his metaphorical wings in such a way, despite the steadily progressing training he had begun after the end of his first week of healing to gain back the strength and muscle that being bed-ridden would otherwise rob from him. There had been no activity from Ravenwatch either to be heard of, so the man guessed they'd gone underground again for a time. _Still, it feels good to be me again._

"When did you become a Christian?" Jameel shut the book and leaned forward, an arm propped on one of his crossed legs, chin on his fist. Lex's grinning face shifted to brow-pinched perplexity.

"Huh?"

"Christmas. You're a Christian then?"

"No, it's...it's just Christmas. It's what we do."

"We?"

"Yeah...we. Americans."

"Americans are all Christian then?"

"Wha—the—wha—" Lex gripped his head and took a long breath. Jameel chuckled and ruffled up the smaller one's hair. "No, they're not all Christians. Just the vast majority. So much so that Christmas is sort of a national holiday."

"So you're Christian?"

"No, I'm not Christian!" Lex laughed helplessly. "I should smack you."

"You're the one who let himself be flustered. But what were you going to say before we went off on this little religious discussion?"

Lex opened his mouth, then shut it before he mumbled ashamedly, "I forgot."

Jameel shook his head and poked Lex's forehead.

"What am I going to do with you if thoughts start flying from your head?"

"Want to play a game?" Jameel frowned.

"What sort of game?"

"Take off your robes."

"What is this, Lex?" Jameel asked, but did as told, Lex doing the same. Hoods and overtunics were shed, as were belts. Jameel was left in black pants and his long-sleeved white tunic, and brown boots. Lex glanced down at the clothing on his body and felt a little sore at not having his T-shirt and jeans anymore—those had been stripped off him in the Crow's Nest and he hadn't thought to retrieve them. Lex stood.

"Up." Jameel looked at him. "_Yallah._" Sighing, the taller man stood. He staggered, startled, as he was pressed against the wall. Lex kissed him hard, tongue sliding into his mouth. His surprise fled. Jameel matched Lex with his own ravenous kiss, grinning after he pulled away.

"The Sparrow's getting sneakier. I'm teaching you well. Either that, or I'm letting my guard down more."

"Heh. Yeah." Lex smiled, tugging at Jameel's tunic. It slid away from beneath his fingers as he tilted his head down and kissed his way from the man's throat to the scars on his chest. Jameel reached down, cupping his face between his hands as he kissed him, speaking between little pecks.

"You're the only one I'll allow to startle me like that."

"Yeah..." Lex smirked, gripping at his ass before passing his hands higher to curl into his back. A shiver raced up his back as their hips pressed together; a light flush ghosted over his face. "That offer still stands, y'know. Doing whatever you want."

Jameel pressed him closer.

"Let's have some fun."

The Sparrow could've sworn he felt his heart thudding away against his ribs. He nodded.

"Sounds great." Lex slid off his shirt and dropped it into the pile with the rest of their robes, stood on one foot and pulled off a boot and sock, then the other. He held out his arms invitingly. "Your turn. Or do you want some help?"

"You're a tease, little bird." Jameel let his eyes roam over the younger man and noted he'd tanned and filled out nicely. Received some scars as well, evidenced immediately by the white patch of skin at his shoulder where he'd been shot. His hands traced their way up the smaller man's legs, running his fingertips along his inner thigh before bringing them up to his shoulders to rub slow circles there. Lips met again, his leg pressing between Lex's. He drew back just as easily, a grin spread wide across his face almost from one ear to the other. "I can be mischievous too."

"Goddamn it, c'mon!" Lex groaned, voice a husky rasp as he pulled the Assassin over and pinned him down onto the bed. His breathing quickened as he straddled his hips, foreheads pressed together, eyes to eyes. "You're the tease..." He kissed his lips. "Jerking..." Kissed down his chest. "...Me around..." Licked at his belly, then switched his tongue for teeth, nipping at him.

_Damn. Who's teasing whom at this point?_ Jameel loosed a soft groan as he felt his blood rush southward. _Has he done this before? It feels like it._

"Go on, Lex. Get vicious on me. You've been waiting for this for weeks, haven't you?" _I certainly have._

"Hell yes I have," the Sparrow growled, leaning toward Jameel's side and nipping and sucking, biting harder as he moved down his hips. He bucked suddenly, the ache between his legs growing. Jameel grunted, digging his nails into the bed as Lex settled his cheek against his hip, running his fingers from his throat to the growing bulge in his pants. "Want more, Jameel?" He sat up on his knees, pulling his own pants down low on his hips. A smirk curled the edges of his lips. "Your turn. I wanna see what you can do. Take those off." He stood and in one fluid motion had removed the last stitches of clothing, tossing them aside.

That was the cue. The last fiber of rope severed. Now the animal was loose. Jameel removed the rest of his clothing, pouncing on Lex. He nibbled, nipped, kissed, and licked at Lex's skin, ears to belly, wherever he could find a place he hadn't touched before, drawing his legs up over his hips. He paused long enough to grab a small vial of blade oil, rubbing it onto himself and Lex. "What—what is that?"

"Blade oil." The Journeyman stared at him. "I don't have anything else on hand." He leaned his head down, licking at each of the hard nubs on Lex's chest in turn as he pressed into him. Lex sucked in a breath sharply, back arching. Jameel bit down softly as he began to move, smirking against his skin as he felt his lover's breathing quickening.

His eyes fluttering shut for a moment, Lex began to buck back against Jameel, countering his movements wherever he could. He lifted his arms up and twined them around him, fingers twisting into his sweat dampened hair and back as their bodies pressed together. Lex bit at his ear, groaning into it just to arouse him further. He did it again, whispering with it, "Why not show this more often?"

"Shut up and let's dance," came the husky reply. Lex shuddered as he felt Jameel's tongue run along the outer shell of his own ear, teeth following it. He obliged, shutting up and continuing the dance, but for a few soft moans that escaped him. Jameel's lips travelled along his body, leaving small marks that would show clearly in the morning as they passed over the Sparrow's skin, mouth ringing with the taste of salt.

Lex opened his mouth to accept his tongue again, following it back to the Owl's and running his along the roof of his mouth. The taller man's blue eyes rolled upward before he trapped his tongue with his teeth until they were forced to part for air. Hands guided him onto his knees, back pressing to Jameel's chest as he began to pick up his pace, an arm around his waist, the other fitted around him, moving in strong, fluid strokes, the rough skin of his fingertips sending shivers crawling up to the base of his skull, rough panting in his ear. "Does this please you?"

"Sh-shut up and keep dancing with me." Lex quieted again, letting himself get lost in his lover and their actions.

Of course, every good moment had to come to an end sometime. It had been hours of this special dance, and Jameel felt he couldn't possibly love Lex even more without his heart exploding on him. Lex clung to him, kissing every place he could reach. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Their eyes locked. The two relaxed with a single shudder. Jameel laid down next to the Sparrow, tired from the pleasant events. _That was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic._

"I love you, Lex." He put his entire heart and soul into the words, into the moment, striving against the thoughts that threatened to clamor to the fore of his mind. That this would make it even harder to part now. That when the time came, he would have to let him go. That he might never see him again. That he didn't want Lex to leave. Jameel stamped the thoughts down furiously, beating them back. Lex didn't have to leave. _If he wants to stay, he can stay. If he wants to become a Master, then by all means, let him. I wouldn't mind the extra company._ As selfish as that sounded, some part of his mind put in. _I've_ earned _my little sense of selfishness, and these thoughts be damned!_ The thoughts were pushed aside like so much useless straw as he heard Lex say, "You too, Jameel."

Lex turned onto his side, nestling into the Owl's chest and twining the fingers of their hands over his belly. He felt his heart slowing to a reasonable, still fast pace, heard the same tattoo beating against his ear beneath his lover's breast. Shifting his other arm up, he settled his arm around Jameel's shoulder, fingers clutching at his hair as he took a long breath, as if to breath him in. He blinked as Jameel pulled him the rest of the way on top of him, head pressed under the Red Owl's chin.

A soft laugh escaped him. "Tired."

"Sleep, then." Jameel allowed Lex to burrow deeper into his arms, cuddling him like a stuffed toy as he drifted to sleep. A pleasant surprise awaited him in his dreams, none of them nightmares. The nightmares were gone. His mind couldn't even attempt to drum one up, not that it wanted to do so. His thoughts revolved around the young man in his arms and their dance.

It wasn't until the middle of the next day that Jameel awoke, skin still pleasantly warm from the body beside him. _What a great sleep that was._ He turned onto his belly and laid his head on Lex's chest, unwilling to move, but feeling he had to move. The energy he felt inside of him denied anything else. He dressed silently, stretching out his muscles that felt as if they didn't need stretching and never would again.

Lex stirred as the warmth left his side, rubbing at his face and eyes as he propped himself on an elbow. He looked up at Jameel and smiled.

"Sleep well?" A nod. He shifted to a sit and grabbed his pants, pulling them on. He picked up his tunic and slid it back on. Reaching for the rest of his robes, he sought to bring them over his head, but found they were twisted and caught on his back. He spun around in a circle in an effort to tug the clothing down beyond his shoulder blades. "What, no help?" He laughed at his own futile attempts.

Jameel took him by the shoulders and stopped his spinning, straightening his robes with a quick series of jerks. Reaching down, he picked up the Sparrow's belt and slipped it around the smaller man's waist, pulling him into a kiss.

"Was that your first time?"

"Yeah." The man's blue eyes widened in disbelief. "I'm not shitting you." Smiling and shaking his head, Jameel kissed him again before releasing him to walk down the halls. Lex had helped him get back on his feet after so many years of struggle. Now he had a new resolve, a new goal, a new want to survive. _All thanks to my Sparrow._

Lex smiled as he cinched his belt and followed after Jameel as he walked toward the tower, taking the Red Owl's hand—his Owl's hand.

**Ich habe dich, du halbe Portion = I have you, you half portion.**

**Vater unser der Du bist im Himmel = Our father who art in Heaven**

**Geheiligt werde Dein Name, Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel als auch auf Erden = Hallowed by thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.**

**Oh, tannenbaum, oh, tannenbaum, wie— = Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree, how—**

**Ahk = Brother**

**Ahk al-sagheer = Little brother**

**Tannenmeise = Coal Tit**

**Tnam = Sleep**

**Habibi = (depending on who the person is) my dear friend/my love/general term of endearment**

**Reviews are always welcome, my friends. ^^ I hope you all enjoyed this chapter immensely. You keep reading, I'll keep writing. Hope you don't mind the up in rating.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **AC is Ubisoft's, Jammy is Krono's, Gilly and Tancred are Nessa's, and Amir and Badr are Badr's.

**Thanks to Smeggi, Storm, Tobi, and everybody else who's read and reviewed.**

Masyaf  
>Late December, 1191 to January, 1192<p>

"Hey, Desmond, have you seen Malik?" The bartender grunted as he clung to the shelves, his feet on the second one up from the bottom, his arm stretching toward a scroll on the topmost shelf. Lex looked up at the man and sighed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get the stupid parchment up there. What's it look like?" the Novice snarled as Lex came over to him.

"Still surprises me that you're literate." The Sparrow blanched as the case creaked ominously. "Okay, dude, you know there's a ladder right—oh, no, shit, shit, shit!" The smaller man quickly pressed his back to the case as it began to shift under Desmond's weight. The other man scrabbled at the scrolls, knocking them loose as he tried to steady himself. _Crash_ went the bookcase, burying the two in a heap of dust and literature.

Two pairs of hands went to work digging them out. Desmond looped his arms around Rauf's neck, hand clutching the scroll that he'd so desperately wanted. Lex held his head as a masked face took him around the waist and pulled him onto his feet. He looked up at the man's face. A dark brown eye stared at him over the black cloth that covered the man's mouth and nose, the right overcast with the milky film of blindness, a scar running from the bridge of his nose to disappear beneath the mask. The masked man lifted his other hand and brought it to the younger man's head, feeling over the lump there for a moment. When he brought it back down, Lex saw with a momentary hint of confusion that he wore his Hidden Blade on his right hand, his right ring finger gone.

"You'll live," said the man the Journeyman finally remembered seeing more than a few times riding to and from Masyaf. _That's right. He's a messenger._ He was one of the men Tancred had been given over to work with. "Don't act a Novice next time."

"The Novice was acting a Novice," Lex muttered, trying to pinpoint where he'd heard the man's accent from.

"Well, excuse me if I wanted to read something to get us home, _Skandar_," Desmond snarled, making Lex jump. The Sparrow had fallen into answering to the Arabic name ever since Sarah had started calling him by it when she'd see him after Christmas. The other Assassins had picked up on it sometime during the following days. Only Desmond and Jameel seemed to remember anymore that he was Lex the time traveler and not Skandar the Sparrow.

The barkeep shrugged Rauf's arm away once he was on solid ground again. "Or did you forget about that?" He strode toward the smaller man. "Yeah, look at you, a little Journeyman Assassin, training Novices, big and tough. Well, you're not even old enough to buy a drink back home, much less have that blade on your arm! And you're so fucking happy here, aren't you, with your boyfriend and a new name? Well, what about me, you stupid shit of a kid? What if I don't want to be here?"

"_Bas!_" The younger Eagle halted as the masked man stepped between them. "Enough out of you, Novice. Get what you came here for and leave. When you come back, if you should, clean up this mess." The eyes, seeing and blind, narrowed at him. "You're almost as old as Abbas and still a Novice? I would call you both failures, as well as a disgrace to the Grandmaster, be he your father or whatever other sort of relation he is to you." The man looked at Rauf. "I have a message to deliver. See that the Novice does come back and clean this up."

The swordsman nodded and looked at Lex, who nudged one of the books with his foot.

"Are you all right, Skandar?" The Sparrow flinched at the name.

"Yeah. Just... Where's Malik?"

"The _Dai_ is in the mosque. Skandar."

"Yeah, Rauf?"

"It's a rare thing to see that man speak a word on anyone's behalf, much less let a person receive such a tongue-lashing. I think you've made a friend of him by reputation."

Lex made to shake his head, but grimaced and held it tighter instead. Sighing, he made his way down the slope of the mount toward the mosque. _Desmond probably gave me a concussion. Great. Or one helluva whopping headache._

"_Allahu akbar..._" The sound reached the young man as he stopped outside the mosque and shed his shoes, scrubbing off his feet and hands before splashing his face. "_Allahu akbar..._" Patting his hands dry on his pants and using his sleeves to do the same to his face, Lex pushed his bangs back from his eyes as he entered the building. The one-armed Assassin bowed down again, pressing his arm gently to the back of Amir's head to get the fidgety boy down as well.

"Safety and peace, Malik."

"_Ahki!_" Lex was tackled to the floor as Amir bolted up and flung himself at him. "I'm a Coal Tit!"

"Heavy Coal Tit," he gasped. "Get off, _Amiri_. I need air." The boy sat up, dressed in Novice gray robes already, hugging the Sparrow around the neck. "You're a songbird too, huh?" He ruffled the other's black and white hair. "It suites you. Little bird even looks the same."

"I doubt you came here just to get a hug from your little brother?" asked the Hawk, though a smile played around his lips.

"I was wondering how you promote someone." Malik raised a brow.

"You feel your student deserves this?" Lex nodded. "Good. I did as well. Then you can assist in training Amir." The Sparrow nodded, keeping his head bowed. He swayed slightly. Amir wrapped his arms around him, frowning.

"Brother?"

"I'm okay, Amir. Desmond just dropped a bookcase on my head."

"Nevertheless, take him with you." The Journeyman looked up at the Dai. Malik stood and helped him up. "God willing that Novice didn't break anything inside your skull, Skandar, for his sake as well as yours. Jameel might have his head for it."

"God only knows what we'd do without Desmond. He might end up being the _Mahdi_." Lex laughed weakly, groaning as he hobbled out with Amir by his side, leaning on the boy's slightly lower shoulder. Moving back up to the keep, he gathered up the items he would need, then followed Amir back out, still using his arm as a crutch. The Sparrow noted with a hint of satisfaction that Desmond was bent over, picking up an armful of books.

As they neared the Falcon's house, Lex winked to Amir and pressed a finger to his lips. The boy covered his mouth with his hands. Lex knocked at the door, slipping out of his boots once more. The young man smiled as Sarah spotted him, rising from where she'd knelt and putting her arms around him as he did the same. He laughed softly as the younger woman kissed his brow. He leaned down and kissed her cheeks.

"Where's Yameen?"

"What's wanted of my husband?" The woman smiled mischievously, making it obvious that she'd guessed his purpose there by the bundle beneath his arm.

"Oh, I'm just about to make him very happy is all." Lex grinned as he was hugged tightly. Freeing himself, he made his way to Gilbert's room, where the man was dressing. "_G'morsche_, Gilly."

"_Spaetzlein_, what's gotten you to brave the cold?" The German looked over at him, long hair hanging free against his bare, whip-scarred back. The young man tossed him a white tunic. Gilbert looked it over, then raised his eyes as Lex held up a sword and a belt full of throwing knives.

"Welcome to the club, Journeyman."

Lex barely had time to leave his breath behind him as he was picked up and swung around, hugged against Gilbert's chest. His entire frame vibrated with the German's laughter. "I take it you like this news so early in the morning? I should make it a habit if you learn to let me breathe, my friend." The hold on him loosened, but only slightly.

"I can't say how happy I am, my friend. It's beyond words my tongue can use."

"Don't thank me so much yet. If you become a Master, schalack goes the finger." He indicated Gilbert's ring finger. The German gave him a small frown, but another quick embrace followed before he was set on his feet again.

"What will happen will happen, _Spaetzlein_." A hand ruffled his hair, fluffing his bangs into his eyes. "I am grateful, my friend, and I owe you far too much already to repay in a single lifetime."

"Nothing to repay, Gilly." Lex smiled as he felt his stomach growl. "But could I sit in on your wife's cooking? I think that'd be a great start." The two men laughed as they left the room, Gilbert taking only a few minutes to adjust to his new attire.

As hard as it was, Lex managed to drag himself away from the family after a few hours, saying he would return to help with Amir's training and getting the new Journeyman accustomed to giving orders.

He made his way down to the village, giving a few nods to some of those that greeted him, not quite busy enough not to notice the young Assassin. Coming near the stable, he found the man he was looking for.

"Brother." The masked man looked up from the mare he was grooming.

"Oh, it's you. Has the Novice opened his mouth again? I won't help you a second time." He ran the brush over the mare's dark fur. "I dislike those who would speak harshly to someone they've only just injured, but I dislike more those who're too weak to stand on the two legs God gave them, boy."

"Sheesh. I just wanted to thank you for the first time, not that there's gonna be a second." The man turned his head and looked at him with his good eye. "So, thank you...?"

"Badr."

"Thanks, Badr."

"Is that all?"

"What? No 'you're welcome'? 'No problem'? Do I even get a 'go to hell'?"

"Would you please continue along the lines of that last one?" The black cloth quirked up at the edges as the man's cheeks twitched; Lex could almost feel the smirk beneath the mask. "I don't exactly have time to deal with petulant children."

"Okay, I'm making the case that you like being a belligerent dickhead."

"I'll not attest to that last part."

"But you are belligerent?"

"I only return as much as I've taken."

"Oooh. How much can you take?"

"Quite a bit. How much can you give?"

"One helluva lot."

"Hmph. How would you put that in terms I can understand, Novice?" Lex made a show of counting on his fingers.

"Oh, about three hundred with nine millions after it."

"...Hmph." The man shook his head and looked at his horse. "_Zift._" The mare snorted as if in agreement.

"Whatever that means, Mr. Humpy."

" What?"

"Hmph." Lex put a heavy emphasis on the noise Badr had been making, drawing it out through his nose so that it was almost a whine. "Sounds like you're a camel, Mr. Humpy."

"At least I don't sound like a brainless colt."

"Please, this colt got more cock than Smith'n'Wesson."

Badr shook his head again, both not understanding what in all the names of God the lad was talking about, but also finding him unworthy of a response. Still, his curiosity was peaked. Lex eyed him for a moment before turning to leave. A minute later he gagged as the collar of his hood rammed against his throat, spun around and pressed against the taller man's chest.

A hand was pressed hard between his legs. The Sparrow stiffened, from the contact at the knowledge that with just a twitch of his pinkie the messenger could make him a good deal less a man.

"Perhaps you weren't exaggerating too much." Badr shifted his grip, pressing his hand to the back of the smaller man's neck as he gave a brief attempt at struggle. He bent his head, pressing their cheeks together as he spoke in his ear, "However, little colt, bear in mind that you're no stallion." Lex strangled down a noise as the hand gripped at him. "Not yet in any case."

The dark eye lifted toward a flash of gold as he stared at the German across the way. Releasing the smaller Journeyman, he watched as he sank to the ground. "Take care of yourself, _sadiqi_. There are two kinds of Falcons here in Masyaf. One may be quick, but the other is quick and strong." Lex stared at him for a few seconds before finding his feet and backing away, turning only when he was far enough away from the man to feel himself safe.

"Lex?" Gilbert kept his eyes on the man beside the stables as he spoke. "Did he harm you?"

"No. I'm okay, Gilbert." Lex swallowed. "Can I have a minute alone, though, to take care of my...problem?" His face burned ashamedly as he made his way to the nearest haystack, one Desmond hadn't found to occupy. He didn't want to have to explain to Jameel, if the Master Assassin spotted him somehow, why he had such a heavy blush on his face and bulge in his pants.

Lex ran across the rooftops toward the next flag, hurrying to get there before Amir. The Novice had no shortage of stamina and skill when it came to parkour, or so the free running the Assassins practiced would come to be called, but it was still good to test his speed every now and then.

It had been several days since he'd last seen hide or hair of Badr, for which he was grateful. Gilbert had kept an eye on the stables each time he left on a mission, such as missions went these days. The Templars had moved out of the Holy Land for the most part, but that didn't mean a new threat wasn't somewhere on the horizon.

Even at this late stage in the game, vestiges of the Third Crusade clung to their outposts, and with them, Templars. Why did they stay? Lex wasn't certain, but he'd chalked it up to some sort of pay grade. _People who stayed in obviously hostile places get bigger pensions? Besides, who knows when that whole Fourth Crusade thing'll start? Weren't there, like, nine?_

"You're falling behind, Brother!" Amir taunted as he flipped through the air and snatched up the flag. Lex shook his head and picked up the pace, dropping down below the boy to roll and take the flag he'd missed hidden beneath a wooden awning that covered the immediate area before someone's doorstep. Stuffing it into the bands that held the others he'd collected, he made his way toward where the boy was balanced on a low wall, picking the next one as if it were a flower.

He hurried off toward Gilbert as Lex moved to check for any more Amir had missed. He spotted one on one of the climbing struts stuck into the wall of the rock above the river. Climbing over the low wall, he gripped it with one hand and reached. _Little more..._ He leaned further, bracing one foot on the wall. His fingers closed over the fabric as a hand clamped on his belt and pulled him up.

Lex looked up into a pair of blue eyes as he was seated on the low wall, fingers combing his bird's-nest hair.

"The Falcon's brother is looking for you, Sparrow." Jameel frowned as he felt a flinch travel through his lover. "Lex?" The Red Owl gave a soft sigh. "You two haven't gone back to annoying one another, have you?"

"No, Tancred and I're fine."

"But?" The Master Assassin leaned against the nearest house wall and folded his arms as the younger man looked down toward the river below. "Is it this idiocy with Desmond? Whatever you two fought about, this foolishness of avoiding one another shouldn't have gone on this long."

"No, it's not Desmond. And I don't really care if he decides to avoid me from here to three Tuesdays from now."

"Did you set his haystack on fire?" Lex looked at him.

"The what?"

"Did you set his haystack on fire?" Jameel cocked a brow. "Insult his love affair with it? God forbid, did you suggest the Novices urinate on it?" Lex shook his head and laughed softly.

"No, no, we didn't impugn the haystack's honor." He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, swinging his legs around the wall to stand. "Look, I'll tell you whenever I get back from helping out Tancred."

"As you like." Jameel kissed him gently and gave him a push toward where the Germans were located. "Safety and peace, my little bird." Lex smiled and nodded, trotting off.

"_Ach da bist du ja, du halbe Portion!_" called Tancred. The informant gave him a wave. He was dressed in merchants' robes once more, his hair pinned back by his ears and a band of cord.

"_Ja, ja. Was ist, Tancred?_" Lex asked as he neared the man. "_Wohin gehst du? Damas? Jerusalem? Acre?_"

"_Ich gehe nach Hause._"

"_Gehst nach...?_" The Sparrow chewed his lip. Of course. The job of an informant was to go out and, well, gather information for the person he needed to inform of things. He hung his head. "_Jetzt?_"

"_Zwei Tage Zeit._" A large hand settled on his shoulder. "_Kommen du und mein Bruder um mir Lebewohl zu sagen?_"

"In the immortal words of some guy somewhere: No shit, Sherlock. _Natuerlich, Tancred, du bloedes Arschloch!_" The lad grinned as he mounted up. The Falcon rose onto his own mount as the brothers and the Sparrow set off toward the coast.

Tartus  
>Late January, 1192<p>

The shipyard of Tartus was just as noisy as the port in Acre. Lex wasn't sure why he'd expected any different. _Hell, if anything, this place is louder._ He ducked as a trunk of something or other was swung by his head, nearly knocking him flat.

"_Beeil dich, du halbes Portion!_" A hand grasped his robes and pulled him along before the Germans' arms wrapped around his shoulders, Gilbert from one end and Tancred from the other. "The lad won't get crushed once I take my arm from him, will he?"

"He can ride on my shoulders if you're afraid for him, Brother." Gilbert smiled at his sibling's concern.

"He's only a little fellow, like your boy." Tancred folded his arms. "And you'd better take care of him as well. And send me letters! Make them thick, too!"

"Jesus Christ, man, you sound like someone's mom," Lex laughed.

"_Halt's Maul, Spaetzlein._" The two men stared at the merchant as he used Gilbert's pet name for the boy. "Erm..." Tancred looked between the two before scooping Lex into his arms. "_Ja, ja, Gott halte dich in seinen Haenden, Jungchen. Und dich auch, Bruderherz._"

"_Ich liebe dich auch, Bruderherz._" Lex yelped as he was set atop Gilbert's shoulders and hoisted up to watch Tancred move through the crowd. The German took his place at the rail of his ship and waved to the two. "_Lebewohl, Bruderherz!_"

"_Lebewohl, Arschloch!_" Lex waved, then cupped his hands over his mouth. "Tancred!"

"_Was ist, du kleines Arschloch?_"

"I'm dropping mad apples on your head from the shoulders of giants!"

"Know this then before I'm gone, Skandar of Masyaf: I don't wish you luck! I wish you sense!" The two stood on the docks, watching as the ship raised anchor, gazing out into the horizon as it seemed to sail over the lip of the world and disappear from view.

Masyaf  
>February, 1192<p>

Desmond sat on the bed. Altair leaned against the wall opposite him. The younger Eagle watched his ancestor.

"So? Do you know how those crystals work or not?"

"I do."

"But?"

"I'm taking precautions. I don't want to lose the entire village if this should backfire."

"But you know how they work!"

"That's not the point, Desmond."

"It is so the point!" Desmond stood. "God, this is insane!" He narrowed his eyes at the man. "It's not the entire village you're worried about, it's just one person in the village."

"And that one person in the village could take the whole village with him." The Eagles looked at one another for a full minute before Desmond broke off the glaring contest and strode outside.

X x X

Lex sighed as he and Gilbert finally made it into the German's house. Sarah smiled as they entered, the smell of cooking roiling their stomachs, even at this late hour. Amir hugged the both of them as they entered.

"Stay the night, _Spaetzlein_. You're as saddle sore as I am." The Falcon took a heavy seat at the table as Lex lowered himself down inch by agonizing inch. The other Assassin wasn't lying. His back was sore and he was sure somehow killing him with it; he was shaking.

"You're going to be all right, aren't you, Skandar?" asked Sarah as she set out plates for them and took a seat herself. "You're always welcome here, you know."

"I think I mentioned it before, but I come for the company and stay for your cooking."

"Yes, two days ago at breakfast, I believe." Lex grinned.

"Have you gotten tired of it already?" The woman smiled and shook her head. The Sparrow sighed and looked over at Amir as he finally acknowledged the tugging that had been going on for the past minute and a half, or what felt like a minute and a half. "Yes, Amir? What is it?" The Coal Tit was practically doing back flips around the room.

"We're going to be brothers again!"

"Huh?" By way of explanation, the tall Journeyman reached over and set a hand on his wife's belly. It stuck out a good few inches from the rest of her. "Oh my God, how the hell did I miss this?" Lex planted his head onto the table. "Congratulations, you two, but I seriously can't process this right now. I need to get some sleep."

X x X

Jameel jumped off the watchtower, hood falling back as the wind moved past his head. He landed in the hay and crawled up the tower again, eyes scanning the area. He smiled as he spotted two horses coming into Masyaf. Movement caught his eye from the other side. He dropped down into the hay again. The Assassin stood up, picking out straw from his hair as he went to the shadows of the barbican.

Desmond stalked the training yard, walking back and forth, barbican to dais, wall to wall, corner to corner. Altair looked at him for a moment before walking away.

"Desmond, why are you carving trenches in the training yard?"

"He's holding out on me."

"Who, Altair? What's he keeping from you?"

"He has to know how those crystals work!"

The time traveler stopped and looked at Jameel. The Red Owl looked back at him. No further words were spoken between them. None needed to be said. Jameel's frigid blue eyes had turned as cold as icicles when the crystals they'd gotten from the cave in Ephesus were mentioned. Leaving Desmond pinned to the spot, the Master Assassin shut himself up in his room for the rest of the night.

Chandra hooted at him from her perch on the desk as the man shut the door and threw himself onto his bed. Jameel stared at the wall for some time before he took one of the pillows from Lex's side and hugged it to his chest, pressing his face into it. It was no substitute for the young man down in the village his arms seemed to know they lacked.

**Dai = rank above Rafiq, representative of the Imam**

**Allahu akbar = God is great/God almighty**

**Ahki = My brother**

**Amiri = my prince**

**Mahdi = Messiah**

**Zift = Idiot**

**Sadiqi = my friend**

**Ach da bist du ja, du halbe Portion! = Oh, there you are, you half portion!**

**Ja, ja, was ist, Tancred? Wohin gehst du? Damas? Jerusalem? Acre? = Yeah, yeah, what is it, Tancred? Where are you going? Damas? Jerusalem? Acre?**

**Ich gehe nach Hause = I'm going home.**

**Gehst nach…? Jetzt? = You're going…? Now?**

**Zwei Tage Zeit. Kommen du und mein Bruder um mir Lebewohl zu sagen? = Two days time. Are you and my brother coming to bid me farewell?**

**Natuerlich, Tancred, du bloedes Arschloch! = Of course, Tancred, you stupid asshole!**

**Beeil dich = Hurry up**

**Halt's Maul = Shut up**

**Ja, ja, Gott halte dich in seinen Haenden, Jungchen. Und dich auch, Bruderherz. = Yes, yes, God hold you in his hands, laddie. And you too, brother dear.**

**Lebewohl = Farewell**

**Was ist, du kleines Arschloch? = What is it, you little asshole?**

**Hope you guys liked this chapter. As always, reading, writing, all that jazz. :3**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **Jameel belongs to Krono, Badr to Badr, and Ubisoft's charas are Ubisoft's.

Masyaf  
>Late February to Early March, 1192<p>

"What do you want this time, Novice?"

"Depends. What's your price for a restraining order?" The messenger looked up from where he stood sparring against the air. "What's needed to get you to stop following me?"

"Submission."

"Uh-huh... Yeah, about that..." Lex folded his arms and leaned them against the fence that separated them. "I don't do submission. At least, not for you." The man's dark eye stared at him before he sheathed his sword and moved toward where the Journeyman stood. He leaned down into the younger man's face.

"Prepare for a world of trouble until you learn your place then, my friend. Things will be very difficult for you from now on."

"Yeah, because I should be extremely terrified of the man who has a steady relationship with Miss Rosy Palms." Turning on his heel, the Sparrow made his way to the library.

He was pinned to the wall. It had been three blissfully calm days of training and doing little runs about here and there to keep warm, mostly staying indoors and studying. And this was what came of venturing outside. Being pinned to the wall of one of the houses in the village, this one being situated with its back to the drop to the river below.

Now Badr had him by the shoulders, half-pulled up so that the toes of his boots alone touched the ground.

"Get. Off."

"Thank you for the invitation." The Sparrow grunted as the man leaned his full weight on him. "You chose to go against a stallion, little colt. There's always a price to pay for arrogance."

"Look who's talking of arrogance, taking advantage of someone."

"Don't lie, little brother. I know you want it. Otherwise you wouldn't answer to my touch so well."

Badr flinched as the smaller man's teeth sank down, but kept him still as he could with all the thrashing he was doing, blade arm clamped between his legs as they fell into the slush beneath his feet.

The smaller man's legs were suddenly around his waist, bodies twisting so he was on his back. Knuckles came down heavily onto his face. Lex gagged as a knee rammed into his gut, the horseman pressing his face into the mud, fingers twisted into his hair.

"Submit, boy, or I'll make you." He let out an aggravated noise of pain as a pointy elbow jabbed itself into his ribs. "Be still!" The horseman heard a satisfying, muffled yowl as he slammed his fist into the small of the other man's back. The struggling ceased, becoming gasps of pain. His fingers traced their way along the Journeyman's back, curling beneath the lip of his pants to shed them when...

"Leave him!" The masked man looked up at the _Dai_'s voice. Malik's eyes were vicious slits trained on him. He frowned, fingers slipping beneath the Sparrow's robes to trace the lower half of his belly.

"His own body betrays his desires, Malik," he protested.

"So you would bring an ungodly wrath down upon our heads? Leave him be."

"But—" The ring of steel cut him off as Malik's long sword was freed from its sheath.

"Damn you, hear me now, Badr ibn Sherif, and let him go!" Badr gave the one-armed Assassin a studious stare before leaning down and whispering into the smaller one's ear, "I will find you again, little colt." Lips brushed his ear before the weight was gone from his back.

That night a silence tense as the strings of an _oud_ hung about the room. Lex had returned wet and silent and had remained so throughout the day. Every attempt the Red Owl made to get the younger man to speak, or so much as acknowledge his presence other than by a noncommittal noise or gesture, was rebuffed with his silence and the altogether unnaturally blank stare he gave the floor.

When the sun opened his eyes, he found the Sparrow returned to the curled position in which he'd sat before lying down to sleep. Lex flinched as a hand settled on his shoulder, looking up at Jameel groggily.

"Would you like to finish our game, Sparrow?" He shook his head, beginning to press his face into his arms once again. "Lex." He looked up again. The Master Assassin's face was fixed in a frown, icy eyes reflecting his face if he looked into them at just the right angle. "What's going on with you? Are you ill?" His voice took a harsher turn. "Do I need to kill someone?"

The question shook the Sparrow out of his funk. Jameel, kill someone for him? Was he being serious? Sure, if he reached back far enough, he could remember certain of his friends asking who they needed to kill when they found him too quiet or sad, but... _But it's different when the person asking you has a license and born-and-bred job description to kill._

"You serious?" he asked, voice cracking before he cleared his throat and repeated, "You serious?"

His answer was a flat look and another question: "Who is it that needs to die?"

Lex's brain flicked over the possibilities of what this question meant. _Jameel could just want to beat the shit out of him. Or he could want to kill this person. Well, but he could just want to threaten him. No, no, he wouldn't joke about killing someone. It's Jameel we're talking about. But—No, stop fooling yourself, he'll mount his head on the gates if you tell him who it is._ His fingers kneaded at the sleeves of his robes as Jameel watched him, waiting.

"No one," said the Sparrow finally. "No one. I was just in a funk yesterday. Weather and all. Fell on my face in the snow for a good ways, got all muddy. Was just embarrassed." He blinked as he was pulled to the taller man's chest. The Journeyman relaxed as his Owl's thumb brushed against his cheek.

"You're a poor liar, little bird." Jameel lifted the smaller man's chin with a finger, lifting a brow slightly as the color drained from his face. Caught. "If I promise not to kill whoever it is, will you tell me?" Lex swallowed, a shiver running up his spine, though whether it was the chill of his still damp robes or the Red Owl's words, he wasn't sure.

"Promise?"

"I swear." Lips pecked his softly. "I swear on your life." Lex released the breath he'd been holding.

"Okay." He ran his teeth over his lower lip, chewing a little. "It was that messenger guy, Badr." He tensed as he felt Jameel's fingers curl into his back, the muscles of his jaw clenching visibly. After a moment, Jameel relaxed, but the action was forced. His fingers traced through his Sparrow's hair a few times before he bowed his head and pressed his lips to his brow.

"Don't lie to me again, _habibi_."

He was pinned to the wall. It was the same house as before. Except this time it was he who was suspended off the ground. He who was staring into a pair of angry blue eyes instead of brown. Badr dangled clear from the ground, the soles of his boots dripping snow as Jameel held him by the front of his robes.

"Why?" was all the Red Owl said.

"Revenge," was the answer the desert Falcon gave.

"If you mean to take revenge against me for some little fault I've made against you that I can't remember, take your revenge against me. I thought you were above such cowardice as attacking someone I care for." The cloth mask twitched as the man smirked.

"I'd come and have my revenge on you, but you are the one who hides like a coward, Red Cur. You wouldn't remember the slight, as high and mighty and cloud-headed as you are. But no matter. I've settled the dispute through your boy, and if I feel slighted again, I'll continue as much." And he made the mistake of giving a bored yawn. Jameel's hand flashed out, tearing the cloth from his face and cramming his fingers into the man's mouth. They clamped onto his tongue as he gagged, pulling it out from his mouth as far as it would go.

Glare met glare as the two Assassins squared themselves off, the one moving to clench his fist and tear the muscle clean from the roots in the man's throat.

He shifted himself back as the man's right hand moved up, Hidden Blade flashing toward his face. Jameel threw the man into the ground. Badr rolled to stand, but was thrust back down as a knee met his back. Jameel jerked his hood down and grasped a fistful of the man's short, black hair. A low growl was uttered as the man made a vain attempt to struggle.

"Be still!" The world seemed to hold its breath as the roar echoed around the valley. The next words were whisper low, Badr's face pressed into the mud. "Or do you not like receiving the treatment you gave? Hear me now. You will not go near Lex again." Badr spat a globbet of mud to the side to clear his mouth.

"Your boy's body responded to me, Jameel. I would say he wanted my touch and my presence. Why on earth then should I not give him what he wanted? It's fair." He gritted his teeth as the weight pressed him down further, a low snarl sounding in his ear.

"He is my lover."

"And?" He froze as Jameel's Hidden Blade pressed against his spine. The Red Owl stared at the knobs of his victim's neck before he stood.

"Be glad I swore not to kill you." He turned on his heel, prepared to leave.

"I win." The Master Assassin performed a whip-quick about-face, the satisfying crunch of snapping bone sounding as his fist collided with Badr's face. His foot came up next, knocking the air from the messenger's lungs as it met his gut. Badr clenched his teeth, schooling his eyes into slits to not reveal his pain as he sank to his knees. Jameel stared down at him, eyes narrowed. Turning his back, he began to walk toward the keep.

The whistle of a blade turning through the air made him toss himself to the side, the dagger falling harmlessly to the slush. Rising into a crouch, Jameel loosed three knives from his belt. One forced Badr to take a knee, tugging at the blade in his shoulder. Standing, keeping his mind focused on his promise, he spat at the man and made to leave once again. The ring of steel pulling free from its sheath forced him to halt once again. _Forgive me if I kill him, Lex. He's making this rather difficult!_

"What are you doing?" He looked up at the voice. Altair and Maria stood looking at him and the other man.

"He insulted me! He spat at me!" Badr screamed, turning his anger on Jameel. "How _dare_ you—"

"Silence!" Altair stared at Badr until the man quieted. He looked at Jameel. "What the hell are you two doing? Has the weather addled your minds so with boredom that you decide to kill each other in the middle of the village for sport?"

"His boredom makes him unable to control his own cock. He tried to take Lex." Badr sneered at Jameel over Altair's shoulder.

"It was barely forced. I am not interested in him in that way anyway. It's merely dominance. He tried to run with a stallion when he's little more than a colt." Jameel bared his teeth in a snarl.

"He's more of an Assassin than you act, gelding!"

Altair and Maria stepped between Badr and Jameel as the messenger lunged at Jameel with his drawn sword.

"Enough!" Maria snapped. She looked to Badr. "You act a fool and prove his words right. Take yourself from here and find something to occupy your time. And mind you do not go near the boy again." She turned to Jameel. "And you. Do not attack a brother again, even if it should be for recompense."

The men's faces flushed with heat as the woman gave them a tongue lashing. Jameel eventually gave her a nod. She was right. Even if it was a great embarrassment to be scolded like a little child. Badr, however, took the reprimand to heart and stated with a low hiss, "Dung beetle woman."

With a movement swift as any Assassin, Maria brought the flat of her sword across his head in a great smack. The one-eyed Assassin toppled to one side, gawking at her.

"Mind your tongue, or you'll be made a Novice once more and your teachers will be all the women of the village." Shaking his head and leaving Badr to the care of the Master and the apparent Mistress, the Red Owl marched toward the keep.

"Jameel." He stopped, looking at Altair. "I've been searching for a way to—"

"Altair, if you finish that sentence, I may use this sword in my hand." He sheathed the weapon and retired to his quarters. Jameel leaned his head against the wall opposite the infirmary before making the rest of the way to his room. Looking inside, he found Chandra nestled into Lex's hair, the boy slumped over the table and the book he'd been reading.

Shaking his head, he shooed the brown owl away gently before taking the Sparrow into his arms and moving him to the bed to sleep.

**Oud = lute-like instrument**

**Short chapter, but Muse doesn't want to give me more. Sorry, guys. ^^; The next one will hopefully be longer. :3 I hope you guys keep reading. I'll keep writing.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: **AC and its charas belong to Ubisoft, Jameel is Krono's, Gilbert is Nessa's, and Badr and Amir and Badr's.

**I'm sorry for making you guys wait for a month for an update, but school literally gave me a migraine. =.=;; So, here's the spring break chapter update of New to the Creed. I hope you can forgive me for making y'all wait this long.**

**Badr, I hope you're happy with the amount of Amir in this chapter.**

Masyaf  
>March to Early April, 1192<p>

Blades sang in the training yard as the two songbirds met and parted. Lex adjusted his stance as Amir wobbled and caught himself, finding his footing again in the sand. The Coal Tit let out a startled cheep as the Journeyman lunged again, flicking his sword toward him. Amir parried, but just barely. Lex came at him again, their blades locking for a moment until the older male drew back and smiled.

"Are you practicing on your own, or how are you so good already?"

"Papa and Baba show me, _ahki_," Amir explained, hugging onto him. Lex cocked his head, running a hand over his head. So, both Gilbert and Malik were training Amir when he wasn't. _Is that even fair?_ he wondered, but shrugged it off. Of course, it was fair. Malik deserved a Novice after all he'd been through, even if he still came off as a drill sergeant, and Amir was Gilbert's son after all.

"And whose sword is that?"

"Mine. Mama gave it to me."

"Mama? Sarah made you a sword?"

"No, not that mama. My other mama."

"You have two mamas now? Who's the other one?" In response, Lex was half-dragged out of the ring by the Coal Tit, staggering after Amir as the boy hurried him down the dirt track toward the village. Amir hopped up onto the nearest roof, chirped, and swung back down, taking his brother's arm and hustling him down to the stables. There he pointed to where Malik stood talking with an all too familiar face. Specifically at the all too familiar face.

Malik looked up from speaking with Badr as Amir ran over and hugged him. Lifting his eyes again, the one-armed man gave Lex a nod before casting a look over his shoulder at Badr and setting up the hill again with Amir.

"But I want to swordplay with Brother and learn more and show you and Mama!"

"You will, Amir, he'll be along shortly." As to which he Malik was referring, Lex wasn't certain. He focused on Badr again as the tall messenger made his way to stand the usual distance from him; if Badr had been shorter or the Sparrow taller, their noses would have touched at the tips. As it was, their eyes stared into one another for several minutes, neither making the first move to speak.

"Your lover shamed me," Badr stated with just a hint of venom in his voice. "What's more, he made me the butt of a woman's scorn. She treated me like a child."

"Can you lay claim to being a man if you're slighted by the fact of not having had a good lay in some time, as you so obviously hadn't seemed to have had?"

Badr snorted and stiffened, standing taller, chin tilted slightly upward. After a moment, he brought his temper back down. When next he spoke, his face had the same expression as if he were trying to speak while chewing a mouthful of gravel: "Malik has given me a possible solution so that no bad blood will exist between our lines."

Lex lifted a brow and asked, "Our lines? And what sort of solution?"

"Yes, our lines. You are Amir's brother, though in what way I'm not certain. I care for him as well, and Malik besides. You were Malik's student once."

"Once and only once. You gave Amir a sword?"

"To care for with his life so that it may guard his life when needed."

"I'm sure Gilbert was happy with that."

"He was." The man reached back and scratched at the back of his neck beneath his hood. "His wife nearly beheaded me with a cook pan." Lex chuckled softly. _Oh, hell, I missed it. I would've loved to see that._

"Sarah must've been pissed," he giggled. The man's dark and milky eyes narrowed. "A little thing like her nearly killing such a great Assassin?" After another tense few seconds, a sound like a laugh came from the man, though it was creaky from disuse.

"Hmph. Shall the business be done?"

"Sure. What business is it anyway? We sorta got sidetracked there..."

"Yes. Malik has suggested that we become brothers by blood." Lex frowned, brows furrowing. _Blood-brothers?_

"Okay. Well, what would that mean?" Badr gave him a look like he was an imbecile, but explained, "You would be closer to me than if you would have been born from the same womb or sucked from the same breast as I. We would guard each other and stand in defense of one another if one is humiliated. Should one go to one, the other goes as well. As my brother, you would also be subject to me, as I am sheikh of my tribe."

"I sense there's a 'but' coming," Lex mumbled.

"However," continued the Assassin, a pregnant pause following the word, "however, I would take into consideration the reasons for your actions and any suggestions you would have for me in my duty as well as actions. Is that a clear enough explanation?"

"Yup. So, how're we doing this? Slitting our fingers, cutting our palms, what?" He yelped as his left ring finger was sliced on the pad by Badr's hidden blade. "What the hell, man? That hurt."

"Do the same to me." The man held out his right hand. Sighing and resisting the urge to suck his finger, Lex cut Badr's. Badr took their fingers and pressed them together firmly for a minute before releasing them. The two looked up at Malik, who held out a small piece of parchment. Badr pressed his finger to it. Once Lex had done the same, Malik put the parchment into a small pouch, which Badr took and tucked away into his robes.

"It's done. Let's go watch Amir."

X x X

Altair looked up from the glowing object on his desk as Desmond entered his quarters. The man who looked so much like himself gazed at the Apple, then at him. The bartender's ancestor gave a weighty sigh before settling his crossed arms on his desk.

"Well?"

"I have the answer."

"But?" Silence reigned over the room until Desmond all but shouted, "C'mon, gramps, what?"

"Give them more time. Another few days, or perhaps a week." The younger Eagle grew white in the face at the words. Gritting his teeth, he turned sharply and stormed from the room.

X x X

"My move?" Jameel looked up from the chess board to where Lex stood in the doorway, beads of sweat soaking down his bangs to black spikes sticking to his brow. He gave a nod and returned to writing. Lex tilted his head as he took a seat beside the Master Assassin, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "What're you working on?"

"It's a journal."

"Ooh, secret diary and all that? Okay, I'll read it when you're not looking then."

"I never said you couldn't read it, Lex." The Sparrow looked up at the other man. The Red Owl reached around and used his hood to mop up the sweat from the back of his neck. "What were you doing?"

"Training Amir with a sword."

"I take it he made things difficult?"

"He made hitting him difficult." The two men shared a laugh, Jameel keeping his hand on the Journeyman's back.

"Are you too tired from training, or do you feel up to taking a walk with me?"

"You've been home an awful lot lately. Why so few missions?" Lex asked, blinking his slightly stinging eyes as he shook the hair back from them and took Jameel's hand.

"Call it the lull in between battles." Jameel leaned down and kissed his cheek. "When you're as old as I am, little bird, you'll understand what a little peace, even one like this, can benefit a man."

"When I'm as old as you are? Oh, yeah, like you're so old, Jameel. Next I look you'll be hunched over with a full, white beard and a cane. What'll they call you then, Umber Owl? Dusk-toned Owl? That shade of red that's just a hint redder than sandstone-what's it, crimson, scarlet?"

"Oh, yes, yes, and you'll be the little gray sparrow, even smaller than now." Jameel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Although..." _Scarlet Owl. Crimson Owl. Those do have a nice sound to them._ Lex twined their fingers together and left Jameel to his musings, adjusting his arm to fit around his waist as the other drew him closer, the Assassins heading down the slope toward the village.

"Would you mind that, an arthritic, old Owl?" Jameel asked softly as they made way for a gaggle of village men making their way to the keep for some business or other. His thumb brushed against the back of the other's smaller hand, drawing circles there as they continued to walk.

"Would you mind a hunched, gray Sparrow?" Lex squeezed his hand tightly, the prospect of growing old more frightening, oddly, than a swift death by arrow or sword or mace or the slow, fevered pain of poison. Jameel thought a moment before giving him a sidelong smile.

"Would I have to carry you through the market?"

"You'd break your back doing it by then."

Shaking his head again, Jameel stopped as he saw Desmond before them, sitting on one of the low stone walls that snaked down the path to the village, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree. Lifting his head, the Novice stood, but made no move to go toward them. It was to see him out of his haystack, much less so far away from it.

Letting go of his hand, Lex grinned as he made his way over to the Novice.

"Hey, whazzamatta chu, Dessy? Your haystack dump ya?"

Desmond glared at him in a way that would have made the Grandmaster proud.

"It's all because of you. He's holding out on us, out on me, and it's all because of you, you fucking pipsqueak!" Lex took a step back, confusion clear on his face. Surprise streaked across Desmond's. _Of course, no one told him..._ He raised his eyes, looking toward the gaze that had steadily frozen his blood since his getting up from his seat. Now he felt as if the man glaring at him with such utter malice in his eyes would soon be dancing on his grave. Just as soon as he freed him of his mortal coil by ripping it out with his bare hands.

Jameel told Lex then, his voice low, almost a hiss, but for a tremor that almost resembled a strangled sob, "Altair has a way of getting you and Desmond back to your own time, Lex. He has a way of getting you home." The words said, he bounded away up the slope, several quick strides carrying him the same distance back that the leisurely stroll had had him come.

Alone with the other time traveler, the Journeyman turned from gazing to where the Red Owl had fled to Desmond.

"He does?" His voice was flat, monotonous.

"Yeah." The Eagle nodded. Lex gave a single nod, a dull "Okay," and walked back up the slope to the training yard. Jameel was battling the training dummies again, stabbing them with his hidden blade in the vitals, each blow more frenzied than the last, creating a vast array of torn cloth limbs and shredded straw.

The Sparrow looked at Jameel for a long while, watching him tear apart the straw men in a way he was sure he would have torn apart Desmond had he been allowed. He made his way over, his limbs leaden. Gravity pulled at him like he'd gone to the top of the tower and just walked right off. He stopped a few feet from Jameel's back, looking at the dummy the man had most recently been facing. Lopping its head off would have been a mercy, the way it looked.

The image blurred.

_Don't cry. Don't cry now, not in front of him. Stop! Stop, damn it!_ He coughed, shaking.

The tears wouldn't stop.

Jameel stopped when he heard the cough, his hidden blade sheathing itself with a flick of the ring on his pinkie. He turned to Lex. Concern etched itself across his face, the roiling hatred he'd felt moments before burned away at the sight of his lover standing there, tears and snot streaking down his face. Lex looked up at him.

"Just...ah, fuck..." He ran a hand over his eyes and nose, through his hair. "Damn it, Jameel...God damn it..." Lex stared at him, slack jawed, breathing heavily, voice barely intelligible through the sobs he restrained, "If-If you so much as _think_ about saying 'we knew this day would come,' I will kill you." What strength he had left seemed to flee his limbs as he sagged forward and clung to the taller man's waist. Jameel knelt quickly, hugging him close.

"I know." He wiped the tears and snot clean from his face, taking the sweat away from his brow with a few passes of his gloved hand, smoothing his hair back from his face. "It's true, though." _I have to let him go. Lex doesn't belong here. It would change everything. Maybe it's for the best if Lex goes back to his own time. After all...the maxim of the Brotherhood is...'Nothing is true; everything is permitted'._ Jameel schooled his features perfectly, but behind his impassive face, behind the ice he forced into his eyes with cold truth, he felt a knot growing in his stomach, a lump in his throat. "You have to go back." His fingers dug into Lex's shoulders as he pressed his face into the smaller man's neck, a single shudder escaping his tightly held control. "I can't follow."

The Sparrow nodded, swallowing thickly around the mouthful of spittle now stuck in his throat.

"Don't forget me, okay?" Jameel nodded, sighing against his skin as he nestled into his Owl's arms. "Jameel." Lifting his head, the older man sighed again, lips pressed to his own. He returned the kiss with as much strength as he was allowed, still restraining his anguish until it could be wrestled back into the pit it had escaped from, clutching onto Lex the same way he would have if he'd been drowning-drowning and conscious, at least. "What do you want to do until Altair stops screwing around and gets whatever it is set up to go?"

The Master Assassin managed a smirk.

"Up for learning how to fight blind? I still need to teach you how." He pressed his lips to his forehead. "I want to get it into this thick skull of yours before..." His face was pressed into his hair then. Jameel twisted his fingers into his lover's hair. It would be a parting gift for his little bird.

"Yeah, I'm up for it." Lex helped him to stand. They moved into the training ring. Jameel tossed him one of the blindfolds, which he wrapped over his eyes and tied tight. "Let's do this. Show me how it's done, Master."

X x X

Desmond sat atop the ledge nearest his haystack, not speaking, just sitting, looking out over Masyaf and the landscape beyond. He looked up as a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Why are you out of your haystack, Desmond?" asked Gilbert, head tilted to one side. "You two didn't have a lover's quarrel, did you? I hear straw is a fickle mistress to please, especially with bedding down."

"No. What're you doing up here anyway?" the other man muttered. The German straightened.

"Going to see what all the excitement is about. Amir's dragged everyone he can find over here. I can't see how he missed you. Come. Let's see what all this fuss is about." He drew the man up and headed toward the training yard with him.

X x X

Jameel had tied the blindfold tight over his eyes as Lex had done and was immediately on the offensive, his dagger drawn. He weaved from one side of the other, drawing the smaller man into the center of the ring, but instead of his normal silence, he was purposefully loud, kicking up dust with each halting stride. He didn't want to hurt Lex or even scare him.

"Pay attention to your environment. Your enemies will try to keep silent in the dark. The smart ones anyway." His dagger came down.

The Journeyman shifted his weight forward, grasping his blade just below the guard and aiming a punch at the Owl's face.

Jameel moved his head aside as he heard the creaking of Lex's gloves, letting the punch sail harmlessly past his head. He shoved him hard in the chest with his shoulder. The Journeyman rode the shove and planted the balls of his feet into the sand, only to be forced into motion again as Jameel went into a dance with his weapon. He skipped around the blade whenever it drew near him. Jameel picked up his pace, forcing Lex to move faster to avoid the curved edge coming toward him.

The display was drawing quite the crowd. The Novices usually at their training by now stood around the ring, mouths agape. More Novices were crowding in, as well as Assassins who usually passed through the training yard. The daily routine had just offered an awe-inspiring, interesting diversion they were glad to take up.

Lex's eyes flicked behind the blindfold as he moved for the Master Assassin's right, then came up hard on his left with a kick.

Jameel's left hand lashed out like a coiled snake, catching his leg by the ankle. He shoved the leg away, counterattacking with a low kick to Lex's right leg.

"Shit!" Lex caught himself on his hands and threw himself to the side, rolling out of range of Jameel's dagger. He rolled into a crouch and stilled. Listened. Then darted forward, zigzagging toward the Owl and pushing off the ground, aiming a punch for his head. He moved below the punch, quickly turning the dagger so the blade was toward himself, and rammed his fist into Lex's exposed torso full force.

The Journeyman gagged as he toppled to the ground, clutching his gut and sucking for the air he'd lost. Jameel reached down and took him by the arm, listening to his breathing. As it steadied, he drew the other up to his feet. He'd heard Lex coming, heard with a tinge of excitement the whoosh as the air left his lungs. He knew there was a crowd watching. Despite lack of any commentary by the transfixed crowd, he heard the shuffling of their feet as they leaned and moved around each other for a better view.

Within the crowd, Desmond and Gilbert watched, the Eagle peering over the shoulders of a few other men.

"Five," from Desmond.

"Twenty," Gilbert's counter.

"Thirty."

"Fifty."

Lex grasped onto Jameel's robes, throwing himself forward and up at the same time he hauled the man down, cracking their heads together. Lex released his grip and attempted to jump back, staggering as he landed again. _Owwww. That hurt. No one wins with a head butt..._ He shifted his footing and held up his fists, circling, waiting for an opening.

Jameel, too, had staggered from the blow, disoriented. He held his head and managed to shake it off quickly enough. The man sheathed his dagger. _Fine. If that's how you want to play, I'll fight you hand to hand._ The Red Owl moved in, not granting Lex the opening he sought. He kept up a continuous barrage of strikes, forcing Lex to ward off the blows with his arms where he could and take them where he couldn't.

Lex gagged as he was suddenly pulled into a headlock under Jameel's arm, fear spiking cold along his spine. _He can snap my neck like this..._ The Sparrow immediately jammed his knuckles squarely into the man's diaphragm. Released from the hold, he came at Jameel with his own volley of blows, most of which were blocked, only to break off suddenly, ducking down and swiping at his legs.

Jameel jumped over the sweeping kick and smiled. He backed up quickly to avoid being tripped.

"Good. You're getting it! Keep it up!" _This is fun._ He almost laughed aloud. _I haven't had this much fun since executing my first Leap of Faith._ Lex was a fast learner, faster with combat than books. _Now I have to teach him blind swordplay too. This will be more dangerous...but all the more exciting._

The Sparrow flashed a grin, excitement and pride at the words filling his face.

"I'll do that! What's next?" He waited a bit, cocking his head as he listened. He broke into a run, checked suddenly, hopped to the right, then aimed for a tackle. Jameel moved to Lex's left, giving him a not-so-gentle shove so that he fell into the sand.

"Sword fighting while blindfolded."

They drew their swords. Lex assumed the easy stance he'd fallen into the few times he'd held a sword, one hand at his side, slightly back in case it needed to rise and balance him out, the other hand gripping the sword as he circled. Bringing his hand forward, he lunged, flicking the blade in toward Jameel's shoulder.

Jameel kept up his smile as he parried easily and counterattacked with his own jabs and slices. Lex evaded Jameel's slices, giving a soft noise of discomfort as one of the jabs caught him across the arm and blood spilled onto his sleeve. Parrying once again as the blade came for him, he worked into Jameel's guard, getting in a few jabs and pecks of his own, spotting the Master Assassin's tunic at the calf and forearm with little red splotches.

The crowd started to cheer at the sight of drawn blood, evidence that the two were taking the spar to the level of near combat-they were serious as the threat of death that now colored the tips of their long swords.

Jameel swung again. Lex leaned back from the slice, gulping at the feel of the blade flicking by mere inches from his throat. He flipped his blade so the pommel faced toward the Red Owl, grasping it below the guard as he slammed it into the man's gut, quickly righting it so the blade pointed outward once more.

He felt the air rush from his lungs as the pommel struck him, but didn't slow. He kept at the offensive, trading blows with Lex, blades ringing. His heart thundered in his chest, what tiredness he'd felt melting away.

The cheering intensified.

Lex was pressed back. Sweat dampened the blindfold, stung his eyes where it managed to seep beneath the cloth, stuck his hair down to his forehead and the nape of his neck. He blinked furiously, eyes watering. He started to breathe a little harder, a little faster than he knew he should.

_Calm down. It's just like chess. Physical chess._

He drew a long breath as he evaded Jameel's next strike with a quick roll, shifting into a half-crouch, aiming for his lower back with a jab. Jameel twisted out of the strike's path, planting his foot into Lex's chest. The other fell back, only to scramble up again, panting heavily.

Desmond did a double take when another pair of robes came up behind him, along with familiar faces. Gilbert looked as well. Altair and Maria were standing there, watching the battle. Desmond blinked, looking between the couple and the Falcon. The German shrugged as they too resumed watching.

Jameel shivered as he felt the sweat trickling down his neck and chest, but didn't slow his assault. Slowing down would mean getting tired; getting tired in the middle of a fight meant death. He wasn't about to slow down, and he wouldn't allow Lex to slow down either. Jameel's mind went into battle mode, making the blows heavier, bringing to bear his full strength with each strike, quickening his pace so the blows would be ever harder to parry. They could still be parried, but it would be difficult if his opponent was taking him lightly.

Lex stumbled as his back ran up against the fence, barely escaping a swipe as the sword came at his head, rushing to one side. As the jarring force of metal clashing on metal made his arms rattle once again, his knees ready to buckle, something clicked in his mind, the same as it had the night he'd fought the guards in Acre. With a yell, he threw himself against the attacks, striking back hard and taking the offense for himself fully. He shoved Jameel up against the fence, locking their blades and planting his feet. It was a test of strength he knew he would lose, and planned on it.

As Jameel forced him to bend, he broke away and finally succeeded in putting his fist into the man's face, the punch landing hard on his jaw.

Jameel thrust him back then, falling on him with a new savagery. His attacks were vicious, cutting into skin as the blows became so many flashes of steel. He was a Master Assassin battling a deadly enemy now, mind bent on freeing himself from the trap he'd somehow gotten into. Instinct and training ruled his mind; he wanted out of the corner he'd been boxed into by steel and fists no matter who he had to cleave through.

The Journeyman's eyes stretched to their widest behind the strip of cloth as he struggled to defend himself, all but thrown onto his back with each blow, tripping over his feet in every attempt to keep his footing, drawing upon all the strength, training, and-somehow-instinct that had been ground into him since he'd been in Masyaf. _Gonna die! Gonna die! Gonna die!_ screamed the front of his mind while the back shouted just as loudly, if not louder, _Live, live, __**live**__!_ As the Master Assassin's blade pressed to his once more, he shifted, slamming his heel into Jameel's inner thigh. As the man's leg buckled, he grasped his sword arm and ducked down, flipping him over his shoulder and into the sand. There Jameel lay pinned, the tip of a Hidden Blade pressed against his throat.

**Thank you all for being so patient with me. I'll keep writing if y'all keep reading. Might just take me a bit to make due on it, but I will. Be sure of that. Again, thank you all for the immense levels of patience. And yes, if I sound more hick than usual, blame the new friend of mine. **


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: **Ubisoft owns its characters, Jameel is Krono's, Gilly and Tancred are Nessa's, and Amir and Badr are Badr's.

**Thank you to Tobi and Smeggi for reviewing and to Tobs for all the great art so far. Also, thanks to Renka for the offer of art and the great review via PM.**

Masyaf  
>Early April, 1192<p>

Jameel removed his blindfold and stared at the sky. Each breath brought with it the knowledge of the hidden blade's presence, the cold metal so near to taking his life. The Master Assassin ignored the others gathered around the ring, and, for the moment, ignored Lex's presence.

_Had he truly been serious, you would have been dead already, Jameel,_ he thought to himself. _And had I been truly serious, so would Lex. We must be faster. Much faster. Especially in the beginning._

"Let me up," said the downed man. Lex drew back, broken out of his battle haze, retracting the weapon. He kept his eyes on the sand, a cold lump settling in his chest. A tremor snaked up his frame before a hand settled on his cheek. Brown eyes found blue as he blinked the grit from his eyes and focused on Jameel. "What prize does the victor claim?" The Sparrow stood and held out his hand to the other man.

"_Yallah_, Red Owl. I thought sparrows were the only ones to take dust baths." Jameel squeezed his lover's arm tightly as he was levered to his feet, coming away with blood on his fingers as he released him. The cheers of the Novices were muffled, sounding as if he heard them through a cloth wrapped over his ears. Lifting Lex beneath his arms, he set him down on the other side of the ring and pushed him toward the door to the keep. The Sparrow glanced back at him before reluctantly threading his way to the infirmary to have his wounds tended.

As the crowd began to disperse, the Novices and Journeymen muttering among themselves, the Masters giving him appraising looks, Jameel noticed who all had been assembled there. A low chuckle escaped his lips. _And so the Red Owl is humiliated in front of the entire Brotherhood... The Grandmaster and his wife, no less!_ His feet began to carry him somewhere. To where, he wasn't certain, but he let them move nonetheless. _This stings. It shouldn't. It was Lex. It was only a lesson, a simple show of training. Yet it stings more than any physical pain I've encountered. Very vicious blow, my Sparrow. What a very vicious blow you've dealt me._

As he made his way out of the training yard, the Red Owl stalled, hearing Gilbert say quite happily, "Pay up!" He looked at the two men as Desmond handed over the coin he owed.

"It was sheer dumb luck," grumbled the Novice.

"You'll pay up nonetheless, my friend."

"Desmond." The bartender looked up at his name being called. He then found himself on the ground, his mouth full of sand and pain ringing in his head. The German shifted, raising his blonde brows at the taller man's slip of control, but not as surprised by it as he seemed. Jameel continued on his way, leaving the young man from the future to swallow down what grit he had to and to spit out the bloodied bits he couldn't.

When Lex returned from the infirmary, his arms bandaged almost from shoulders to fingertips, a few bandages over his chest as well beneath his tunic and hood, the Master Assassin had disappeared from the training yard. Frowning, Lex set out toward the village. He stopped when a flash of white caught his eye far above him. Turning his feet, he made his way to the ladder standing against one wall, climbing up toward the top of Masyaf's tower.

Standing at the top, he looked at Jameel through the two columns that flanked his seat. He was seated on one of the diving-board-like planks, the one beside that which Lex had performed his first Leap of Faith from. Jameel heard his footsteps, but didn't shift his gaze from the river far below, watching the winding course even if so far above it was almost impossible to see the flowing of its current except for where it crashed against the rocks that jutted from its waters. He had a hunch it was Lex. That was why he continued to stare out at the river even as the footsteps grew louder, stopping just behind him.

"Why won't you look at me?"

Jameel shifted himself so that one arm was propped on a crooked leg, allowing the other to dangle from the side of the plank, but didn't turn to the Journeyman.

Instead of answering the question, he said, "I've been humiliated most of my life. Every time I prove myself, something happens and it all collapses. I feel sometimes the only reason I'm ever taken seriously is because I'm an Assassin." His head lowered, white hood following. A smirk curled his lips. "That was never the case with you, was it, my little bird? You saw me as a man first, an Assassin second. I thank you for this. Even for this latest humiliation in the courtyard. I thank you for it. You can leave for home with a clear conscience now that you've beaten me this way."

There was more to it than this, he knew. He kept his lips sealed on his true feelings, though. Now was not the time for weakness. Better to give his lover a lie than to force him to stay and hurt.

"I thought you were gonna take my head off, Jameel!" Lex shouted, his voice echoing briefly as he strode over and stepped onto the planking in front of the Master Assassin, reaching down and hauling him up by his robes. Jameel stumbled to stand straight, eyes wide. He was shaken by the smaller man's anger, shaken physically as well, the fists he more than likely could have crushed within his own jostling him back and forth like so much limp meat. "If my pinning you out of some insane desire to accomplish the goal of self-preservation makes you emo as much as this, throw me off this tower right now!"

He spread out his arms. "Well? Go on! Do it!" The Sparrow looked him in the eye. "You're Jameel the Red Owl"—his voice quavered—"my lover, the most badass Assassin ever! If someone plucked your eyes out with a spork, you'd still be able to reach over and...I dunno, rip out their larynx or whatever the hell's closest at that point in time!" He groaned. "Please, Jameel, stop emoing. So you've been humiliated most of your life. You've gotten over that shit before. No different now." He took a shaking breath and took a step backward, then another. "And if those piss ants so much as make you have an inkling of thinking you're anything other than what I just said, I'll kill 'em so slow they'll wish they were all aborted fetuses by the time I'm done." Another breath. "So, are you going to push me or what?" He took one foot off the edge and leaned back.

Jameel was momentarily stunned as his lover backed toward the edge of the platform. That animal in the training ring wasn't him. That animal had nearly killed Lex. A few centimeters one way or the other on his neck and his life would have flowed out into the sand. _The only reason it was held back for this long was because of the Creed. I lost control. Started changing into something I'm not..._ His mind snapped into focus as his eyes registered the Sparrow's tilting backward. Several things rushed through it at once.

He would fall off center and break his bones. No, the lean was too far for that.

He would fall and miss the hay entirely, continue falling into the river, be swept away.

For an instant, he caught a glimmer of fear in his lover's eyes.

Jameel grabbed Lex by the front of his robes, pulling him away from the edge, and kissed him.

Nobody else was around but them, the usual guards having gone to retrieve their replacements from their quarters some little while ago. Nobody else mattered but him, the one in his arms.

Lex returned the kiss feverishly, arms locked around him. "Every try a double Leap?" he murmured, kissing him again. "Two people at the same time?" He smirked. "Probably never done it while kissing, huh?" Jameel grinned.

"I've never tried it. I've tried the Leap of Faith backwards a few times, even sideways, but never with someone else. Let alone while kissing them." He kissed Lex again, trusting the smaller man to guide him through the Leap as his mind briefly turned over what Lex had told him. What he'd said gave him a few ideas, but what was a spork? It could be a good thing, but in the eyes?

Lex smiled and took his hand, moving over to the edge of the plank. The Sparrow kissed him again softly, deepening it as he folded the Owl into his arms and stepped off into the air with him.

Jameel felt himself tip forward, then no ground. The sensation of falling...or flying...whichever came first, then the hay bale. He popped his head out of the hay bale, their lips parting, arms tight around Lex. "That was..." He trailed off, speechless.

Lex laughed as he sat up and nodded, head also breaking the surface of the hay. He grinned over at the man, then leaned his head into his chest. The Sparrow blinked as the muezzins started up their mid-afternoon _adhan_, raising his eyes and looking into the icy ones above him.

"You've got hay in your hair." He reached up and lowered Jameel's hood as he began pulling out the stalks. He pressed a hand to the Red Owl's cheek gently.

Jameel reached over and lowered Lex's hood, pulling the straw from his hair before running his fingers into it. He sighed, "I'm going to hate to see you leave." Lex wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm gonna hate leaving." He looked toward the rest of Masyaf, expecting Desmond to just run over, crystals in hand. His head was turned gently back by his chin so he faced the other Assassin once more.

"Maybe stay just slightly longer?" Jameel bent his head and kissed him once more, lying back in the hay with him.

As the two lovers were speaking in the tower, Desmond was having a talk with Gilbert and Sarah over the issue of just how long they should remain in Masyaf. After much holding back of Sarah, who abhorred the idea of having to see the two young men leave, Gilbert suggested, "Why not leave them another day or two, Desmond, at least until we've all said our goodbyes?"

Agreeing grudgedly, the Eagle walked toward his haystack. He looked down at the two men as he saw them eating each other's faces there.

"Well," he announced, "Altair's taking his sweet ass time about getting back to us with the solution, so looks like we've got another day or two of waiting. Guess we'll be going back tomorrow night or so. Now get your asses out of my haystack! You've got the entire damned top of the tower to lie on!"

"_Your_ haystack?" Jameel snorted. "This isn't your time, Desmond, as you like to remind us, so you haven't a single claim to this haystack."

Lex cackled as he stood and pulled Jameel up after him, "C'mon. Let's let his highness at his beloved. He's right anyway. We do have the top of the tower." The two set off toward the ladder to return to the top of the tower. "Wanna sleep up there tonight?"

Jameel made his way to the top of the tower first. When Lex pulled himself up from the last rung to the top, he found the Red Owl waiting for him, motioning for him to come join him where he lay on the floor, having stolen some cushions from the floor below. The guard had looked slightly put out at the pair's antics, but hadn't stopped him from taking his bedding.

Lex laid down with his hands behind his head, shifting his eyes from the cloudless sky above to the Owl's eyes. "Beautiful." A light blush colored his cheeks as the word left his lips.

"Yes?" Jameel chuckled. "Oh, were you talking to the sky, or me?" He laughed at the blush on his lover's face, kissing it away. In all his travels with the Sparrow, he felt he'd seen him more embarrassed than any other emotion.

"I wasn't looking at the sky when I said it, Jameel." Lex turned on his side, wrapping an arm around the Owl's waist. He smiled and kissed his cheek before nestling down into his arms.

Jameel smiled. Burying his face into his lover's hair, he soon drifted to sleep. This would be the last time they slept like this before it was just him, sleeping by himself. How long would it take for his scent to fade from the pillows in his room? He clutched his Sparrow to his chest to ward away the impending nightmares of lonely souls and the possibility of eternal sleep if he slipped up even once. No pleasant dreams came to him, but he held him tight in his arms all the same.

After being held so tightly, Lex watched him for a minute before lowering his head and shutting his eyes. He sank into sleep, fingers curled into his Owl's robes.

The next morning Lex stirred just before dawn. He sighed and looked down at Jameel. Leaning his head back down again, he listened to his heartbeat.

Jameel felt a weight on his chest when he awoke. He found Lex sprawled atop him, using him as both pillow and bed. He grinned and cast his eyes to the ceiling, fingers stroking the smaller man's neck. There was no sense in disturbing him, so he let him sleep on.

"Morning or afternoon?" Lex slurred, finding he'd dozed off and the light had grown around him since the last time he was awake. Toying with a strand of Jameel's hair, the Sparrow followed the Master Assassin's eyes ceilingward. "What? Are the cracks changing into the prophets? Is that why you didn't wake me up?"

"I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so comfortable." Jameel shifted himself as Lex turned, pressing his back to his chest and twining their fingers as he looked at the ceiling. He tilted his head to look up at him, smiling and pointing with his free hand.

"If you squint and tilt your head, that cluster over there looks like a minotaur with a flamethrower." The older man gave him a patient smile in return and kissed his brow, settling back and listening to him talk about what he saw in the meaningless zigzags above them. Jameel made no comment, letting him talk. Who knew when he'd get to hear the Sparrow again? _Just keep rambling and I'll be satisfied, my love._

"You make a good body-pillow. Y'know that?" Lex rolled so he was lying beside him, head on his shoulder. He began to fiddle with his hair again, coaxing it into little tufty spikes, kissing his neck. "I love you." He laughed. "Probably sick of hearing me say that, huh?"

"Why do you say this thing?" Jameel gave him a confused glare, hugging him like a stuffed toy. "I like hearing you talk. I'd never tire of hearing you say that, not if you said it a thousand times over for a thousand years." He nuzzled against his cheek, blowing out a stream of air against his ear just to bug him. Lex squirmed and buried himself deeper into his arms, sheltering his ear against his neck.

"Glad to hear it, but easy on the death glare." Lex returned the hug, working his face into his hair. He tugged at Jameel's ear in response to the blowing. "Asked it 'cause I'm allowed to be stupid sometimes, aren't I?"

"I suppose so." He gently poked the Sparrow in the chest with a finger. "But don't overdo it." Jameel's grin faded away suddenly, his gaze softening considerably. His mind had started to drift to when Lex would leave for his own time. That would be a rather lonely experience—no, that was an understatement. It wouldn't be lonely but devastating on both sides. _What will I say to you then?_

Lex looked at the finger still pressed to his chest before taking it and twining the rest of them together.

"Yeah." He met his gaze, wanting to say something, but unable to find the words that would lead to anything other than a torrent of further words and most likely tears. "I won't forget. You don't forget. All right?" He lifted a finger and poked his nose. "Or else." He nodded.

"I'll never forget, Lex." Jameel grinned again when his nose was poked, tilting his head and kissing the finger. He sighed, taking Lex's hand and pressing it to his lips. If the need arose, he would most likely take a woman, but the knowledge that there was a standard none of them could reach for him left even the idea of the act with them meaningless. _I'll never forget you. No one will ever come close. _

Lex echoed the sigh, sitting up and feeling just about every joint pop.

"Oh, yeah, that always goes well." He flopped back down again. "So, are we just gonna lay here or...?" The Sparrow looked back at Jameel. "Not that laying and enjoying the view isn't great." His mind was stuck on thinking forward, toward the end of the day. He forced himself to think back and thought too far, his mind resting on the problem that had brought him there in the first place. "Hey..." He shook his head. "Never mind."

"What? What'd you want to say?" Jameel propped himself up on an elbow, eyeing him curiously. "If it involves executing a Leap of Faith without clothes and landing on Desmond, I'll have to say no. The only reason I'd do that is if I'm drunk! Besides, I don't want to have to hear Desmond whine all day. I don't want to have to hear him at all, really."

Lex laughed, "No, no, it's nothing that involves Dessy. Just... Well, what would you do if you had no weapons on you and some guys were chasing you down to do their damnedest to make sure you didn't get up again when they were done with you?" He swallowed and licked his dry lips. "Stupid question, right?"

Jameel gave the Journeyman a rather confused look. What precisely did he mean by that? Was someone after him? _If they were, the little display from yesterday should have warned them away well enough. And if not..._

"I'd find a weapon and fight back." Jameel raised himself to a sit and held Lex's face between his hands. "And if there are no other weapons left to you, I'd hope you'd use what I've put into your head, little bird."

Lex nodded, giving him a small smile as they stood and made their way down to forage for some breakfast.

X x X

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Amir shouted, clinging to Lex, who was sprawled on his back in the dust. "No! I don't want Brother to leave!" Tears streaked messily down the Coal Tit's face as he sobbed himself hoarse. "My brother! Mine! You can't leave! You can't..."

"Shhhh. Stop, little brother. Stop, brother dear." Lex kissed his forehead and hair gently, rubbing his hand down his neck and back, the other around his waist. He wiped off Amir's face with his sleeve. "I have to go back."

"No!"

"I have to, _Amiri_."

"No!" Amir hugged him around the neck. "_Ich bin dein Prinz! Ich verbiete es und keine Widerrede!_" Lex shook his head and held the boy close as a fresh wave of sobs wracked his frame.

Lex stood, only for Amir to pull from his arms and race off. Sighing, he followed after the boy at a quick run, but he was already hidden. The Journeyman searched through the smallest nooks and crannies and corners for him until he decided to check the one place he hadn't looked yet. Making his way through the village from one end to the other, he passed through the market and on to the stables.

There Badr stood waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed over the black cloth mask that covered the lower half of his face.

"What have you done with Amir? I found him in Ya-Bint-al-Hawa's stall crying so heavily he couldn't speak."

"I told him that I have to leave," said Lex. The narrowed eyes widened.

"You what?"

"I have to leave," he repeated. Badr frowned deeply, brow furrowing, eyebrows pinching together. He strode toward the other Assassin so they stood nose to nose.

"As your Sheikh and elder brother, I forbid this."

Lex shook his head, "Amir already tried that, Badr." Looking the older man in the eyes, he said a finally time, "I have to leave."

"_Yela'an..._" The messenger seemed to deflate at this, then rallied, stiffening in a show of anger. He snarled, "Fine! _Fikk wle, zift!_" Lex smiled a little at this.

"_Wa ana uhibook, ahk al-ahkbar._" The masked man stood there for a minute before looking at the ground. He reached up and drew back his white hood with one hand, revealing a head of almost hood-headed black hair, part tied back into a short ponytail high on his head. His right ear was decorated with three pierces: two on the cartilage, one on the lobe. The black mask came down to rest around his neck, revealing his face in full. Three scars decorated the right half of his face, one cutting across into his hairline to stop just above his ear, another curving down by his eyebrow to end near his eye, curving slightly back on the end toward his hair. The third started just below his eye and cut in a ragged sort of crescent to just short of the tip of his nose, cutting across the top his nostril. The last scar was straight down over his blind left eye, starting at his forehead, down through his eyebrow, and ending mid-cheek. Along his neck and throat were the faintest traces of burn scars.

Lex found himself pulled to the messenger's chest. He returned the hug after a moment before Badr tilted his chin up, dipping his head to kiss both his cheeks and his forehead. "God be with you, Skandar. If you ever have need of my sword arm or dagger-tongue, I will come to your aid as I've sworn."

"Yeah. I'll hold you to it." Lex nodded and clapped him on the back, turning toward the stables, only to stumble back as Amir raced off again. Groaning, the Sparrow set off once more on the Coal Tit's trail.

The chase ended at Gilbert and Sarah's home. Lex shed his shoes and knocked on the door. Gilbert opened the door and ushered him inside.

"What's going on?" asked the tall German.

"Amir came running in with his face covered in dust and tears," Sarah added. "Has someone hurt him?" Lex swallowed at the sight of the woman, a strand of hair slipping out from beneath the scarf she wore over it, a baby held in her arms. It was a tiny little thing from the looks of her. The Sparrow felt guilt gnawing heavily at his belly for not even noticing when Sarah had given birth, or hearing the news.

"When...?"

"Last night. You missed nothing, Spaetzlein, that I wasn't allowed to see myself," Gilbert laughed. Sarah shifted her arms, showing him the little girl swaddled in the small blanket. "Her name is Marianna."

"Marianna, huh?" Lex touched her cheek gently, then looked up at feeling Sarah's hand on his shoulder.

"What's happened to my son, Skandar?" she asked, her face serious. Lex sighed and braced himself inwardly for a possible slap.

"I told Amir that I have to leave." The hand fell away from his shoulder as silence heavy as the inside of an empty torture chamber filled the room. "Desmond told us that Altair's found a way to get us home. I have to go back with him." He followed the two to where all three of them could take a seat before he continued, "There are things that need to be sorted out there."

"Will you be coming back?" asked the couple in one voice. The young man swallowed hard.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know if I'll be able to come back. If I can, I'll try. I promise." He shook slightly. Sarah gazed at him for a long moment before she put her arm around him and drew his head to her chest. Lex hugged her loosely, careful of the babe in her arms. "Yowch!" The Journeyman hissed as his hair was yanked by Marianna. The baby blinked at him, tugging at the chubby fistful of locks once more before her mother made her release him. "She'll hold a sword about as well as any pan, I can guarantee that with that grip she's inherited."

"Perhaps she will," said Gilbert. The German looked down at his young mentor before picking him up and hugging him tightly. "_Gott gebe euch Kraft, mein junger Freund._"

"_Kommen du und deine Familie um mir Lebewohl zu sagen?_" Lex returned the embrace before looking up at the man. Gilbert nodded.

"_Natuerlich, aber es ist nicht nur meine Familie allein." _The man tilted his head and settled a hand on his head, ruffling his hair._ "Wir sind auch deine Familie, Jungchen._"

"_Ach!_" Lex laughed, blinking to keep the tears pricking the edges of his vision within his eyes. "_Wirst du dann Onkel Tancred meine Gruesse ausrichten, Falke?_"

"_Natuerlich, Spaetzlein._" The two nodded and hugged again before Lex made his way to where Amir was curled on Gilbert's bed.

"Amir?"

"Go away."

"Amir, listen to me." Lex edged into the room and sat on the bed. "I have to go back. It's...it's my home."

"Liar! This is your home!"

"But that was my first home. And it's in danger."

Amir sniffled and glanced over his shoulder at him questioningly. "It is." Lex nodded. "And Desmond and I are the only ones that can save it."

"From White Cloaks?"

"Yes, from the White Cloaks." Lex held out his arms. "Come here." The Coal Tit stared at him a moment longer before crawling into his arms and snuggling down. The young man ran his fingers through the boy's hair. "It'll be all right."

"Will you come back?"

"If I can." Lex managed a smile. "You know I love you, don't you, sweet brother?" In answer, Amir sat up and pressed his face into Lex's chest.

"My brother." The boy sniffed, working his face deeper into the Sparrow's robes. "My big brother kills all the Templars and comes home."

"Uh-huh." He kissed his head. "And when I get home, you'll be there to hug me and tell everybody I'm back."

"Brother?"

"Hm?"

"What's your first home like?" Lex smiled and began whispering in his ear. Amir curled his fingers as he listened to the talk of flying machines and underwater machines and carts that moved without horses.

"How big is it?"

"Big as the sky."

"No such thing," the boy yawned, eyes slipping shut as he fell asleep to the calling of the evening prayer. Lowering him down to the bed to sleep, Lex paused and looked around. Seeing nothing else to cover the boy with besides the blankets he slept on, he drew his white over tunic from his shoulders and placed them over Amir.

X x X

Desmond rose from his hay, shaking it out of his hair and clothes. Changing into his twenty-first-century attire, he went to look for Altair. The man wasn't hard to find, standing in the library with Maria and Malik. Desmond moved aside to let Badr pass and nodded to them.

Altair nodded in return and his descendant walked down the corridor to Jameel's room, nearly knocking his head on the top of the doorframe before he ducked down low enough to peer inside. The Master Assassin sat in quiet contemplation of the board between them, the Journeyman doing likewise.

"It's time, guys." The younger Eagle returned to where Altair and Maria had finished setting up some rough bedding, taking one of the crystals by the string Altair presented it to him on. He then looked up as the other Assassins entered the room and gave the two Falcons, the Hawk, and elder Eagle a two-fingered salute.

Lex moved into the room with Jameel, their hands clasped tightly together. Jameel looked at Altair as the Grandmaster explained, "You must put the crystals around your necks and act as if you're bedding down. Keep your minds focused on the last place you were at in your time. Once you've gone from the immediate area of the place, remove the crystals and you will stay there. Safety and peace be upon you both."

Desmond nodded, checked that he had everything he needed, and put the necklace on, lying on his makeshift bed. He looked at Lex and gave him a thin smile before closing his eyes.

Lex nodded and looked at the others. He swallowed and nodded again to them before turning back and looking at the Owl. The Red Owl. His Owl. Jameel. He hugged him tightly, shaking. He looked at Altair, Malik, and Maria before taking a long breath and slowly putting the necklace on, lying down on his back on the free bed. He took another long breath and was about to shut his eyes when...

"Lex." He turned his head and lifted his gaze to Jameel's face. The Master Assassin's eyes stared into his, soft and intent. "_Ya'aburnee, habibi._" Lex trembled, choking down a sob with as much force as he could muster. Resting his head back against one of the pillows, he closed his eyes and focused, focused on home.

**Ich bin dein Prinz! Ich verbiete und keine Widerrede! = I'm your prince! I forbid it and that's final!**

**Yela'an = Damn it**

**Fikk wle, zift! = Go away/fuck off, idiot!**

**Wa ana uhibook, ahk al-ahkbar = I love you too, big brother.**

**Gott gebe euch Kraft, mein junger Freund = God give you both strength, my young friend**

**Kommen du und deine Familie um mir Lebewohl zu sagen? = Are you and your family coming to say farewell to me?**

**Natuerlich, aber es ist nicht nur meine Familie allein. Wir sind auch deine Familie, Jungchen. = Of course, but it's not just my family. We're your family too, lad.**

**Ach! Wirst du dann Onkel Tancred meine Gruesse ausrichten, Falke? = Oh! Will you give Uncle Tancred my love then, Falcon?**

**Natuerlich, Spaetzlein = Of course, Sparrow**

**Ya'aburnee = literally "You bury me," a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them.**

**This is **_**not**_** the end, beautiful friends. There are still several chapters to go before the end of New to the Creed. Thank you for all your help, support, and love thus far. :3 You keep reading, I'll keep writing. ^^**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: **Ubisoft owns its charas, Jameel is Krono's.

**Two chapters in one weekend! The muses have decided to love on me!**

New York City  
>New York, 2012<p>

The young man on the floor opened his eyes to a gray ceiling far above him. Tile was beneath his back, cold and unfeeling. Desmond sat up as the screen removed itself from over his eyes and looked down at Lex, panting.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Lex sat up, looking around. Desmond looked out the wide windows, then down at Lex. He jumped down from the Animus and pulled him up, all but carrying him to a doorway. The door slid open. Desmond hustled Lex into the room quickly and then the bathroom. Jerking the door to his closet open, he passed Lex a pair of his pants and a belt.

Quickly, Lex changed clothes, the denim scratching hard on his legs, hanging in piles around his feet until he pulled them tight around his legs and stuffed them into his boots, pulling the belt as tight as he was able and buckling it off. Pulling up the sleeves of his tunic, he waited until Desmond let him out once again.

"Okay, Lucy comes in first in the mornings. Vidic comes in later to wake me. You'll have the best chance of sneaking out when she's just coming in. Got it? Just wait here." He pointed to the corner. "She's usually focused on the Animus by the time I wake up, so we should be able to pull this off."

Lex nodded and settled in to wait.

He wasn't certain how long he'd waited, but he held himself perfectly still, eyeing the door. A shiver ran up his spine as the doors slid open and the blonde woman he remembered from a year—no, how long had it been? A few minutes?—ago returned, holding something in her hand. Lex didn't stop to find out what; he bolted through the door quick as his feet were able to carry him.

The young man surged down the way he'd come, boots pounding the pavement. The hard stuff felt strange beneath his feet, unnaturally so, almost. The noise of the city disoriented him. He staggered in the crush of so many people, startled at the lightness of their skin, the strangeness of their tongue. Weaving his way through them, he stopped, fetched up against a wall far from the building as he was able to get, panting heavily.

He knew this language. He knew he knew it. English. It was English. He swallowed. The people were Caucasian—mostly. Immigrants or descendants of immigrants. He was in New York City, New York, in the United States. He was back home. He was back home and terrified. Back home and hating it.

Lex sighed and began to walk down the street once again.

"Oh my God!" He stopped. "I can't believe it! Look at this!" His mind raced back, thinking, trying to remember who these people were. Of course, the ones he'd spoken to Jameel about! Them. Again. Walking around him. A circle of three. Smaller looking than he remembered, but that was a year ago. No, not a year ago...but still surprising. "You hid out in a tanning booth, pretty boy? Thought we forgot about what we owe you?" Circling him, shoving. He let them.

"C'mon, faggot!"

"Thought you could hide from us forever?"

"What's wrong? Gonna cry, pussy?"

His fist lashed out, caught the last speaker in the throat. The one behind him was down in one turn, thrown back onto the ground by a kick. A half turn, his foot in the third man's chest, knocking him ass over head. The Sparrow looked at the one on his knees, clutching his bruised throat. He spat down onto his head and walked back toward his apartment.

Picking the lock was a matter of a few jiggles of the belt's buckle. Opening the door, he frowned as he immediately felt something wasn't right. Something about the place was different from how he'd left it when he'd gone out that day. Then he saw it in front of him. A note taped to the wall. An address was listed on it.

X x X

The place was packed, filled with young adults seeking quick one-night-stands and middle-aged adults seeking something a little more substantial with their drinks.

He blended well among the crowds in the bar, not too young and not so old, seated at one of the back tables to himself. He had ordered a rather strong drink and was patiently waiting for it. He could be patient. He had been waiting a long time, so what were a few minutes more?

A server came and deposited his drink with a hasty apology, looking the man over. The man receiving the drink nodded and took the glass, holding it loosely in a tan hand. Black hair hung down to the nape of his neck, a little falling in his blue eyes in a just so way that the server couldn't help but lick his lips at. There was nothing remarkable about the man in blue jeans, black combat boots, and a black wolf print T-shirt, but he was pretty good looking. Scribbling a note quickly, the server slipped it to him as he walked by.

Lifting the note between two fingers, his eyes skimmed over it. He took a sip of his drink, letting the burn of the alcohol wash away the memories that wanted to rise up from the edges of his mind. The note was casual allowed to drift to the floor with a flick of the man's wrist, trampled by passing feet.

X x X

Lex scanned the signs of the shops above his head until he found the one on the note. Pocketing the slip of paper, he was glad he'd changed into some of the few clothes he'd brought with him. Desmond's clothing was far too big. His own jeans, beaten up, spare Vans, and loose band tee made much less of an impression in the crowd he stepped into in the bar than would have pants half-falling down his ass.

Still, they were a far cry from his robes.

He ran a hand through his hair, let out the breath he'd been holding, and walked toward the table that had been designated on the note beneath the address.

He stopped as he came to the table, looking at the back of the head of the tall man seated there. Black hair, tan skin. He frowned, a strange feeling niggling at his guts. Licking his lips, he curled his fingers into loose fists.

"You're the one who left that note in my place, aren't you?"

The man lifted the glass from where he'd been holding it loosely and took a long swig of his drink. The glass was set back down. A grin spread across the man's lips.

"Hello, little bird."

Lex's mouth fell open. Whatever he had been prepared to say was long gone from his mind, much less his tongue, at those three words. The old Arabic was clear in the room full of English gibberish. A croaking noise left his throat. The world might as well have gone cockeyed of its own volition.

The tall man stood, slapping a few bills down and pinning them beneath the glass. He turned to the young man and looked down at him, his thumbs looked into his pockets. English flowed from his mouth now, just the barest hint of an accent audible. "You made it back in one piece, I see. That's good."

Arms, strong, familiar arms, caught him as he all but collapsed on the floor, hoisting him back to his feet. "Not here, Lex. I'll explain somewhere more private. Don't want eavesdroppers here. They'd think me crazy."

"Where then?"

One of the arms stayed around his shoulder, leading him through the press of bodies and out onto the sidewalk. Lex stopped and looked at him again. The familiar "come here" motion was made. He followed to the car, a modified sports car with red racing stripes. The door popped open on the passenger side. Opening it, Lex took a seat as the beast he'd entered roared to life.

The young man gripped at the black leather armrest with one hand as he listened to the clicking of the blinker until they pulled into traffic and it shut off.

"I won't be offended if you deem me crazy after this. My story is rather far-fetched. On one of my missions, I was chased all the way into the borderlands. I found a temple half-buried in the earth. Apparently, something else was inside besides ruins. A Piece of Eden. An old stone ankh gave me immunity to age when I touched it."

"So, you can't age? How old are you now then?"

"To be accurate..." Jameel looked over at him as they stopped at a traffic light. "I'm almost eight-hundred-forty-years-old."

"Okay." Lex took a long breath, struggling to wrap his mind around this new information. "You...have a sports car."

"I've made a few changes since my stay here in the New World."

Lex nodded. Most of the ride was in silence, but for the thrumming of the engine sending vibrations through his knees and into his arms from where his hands gripped them. The Sparrow gulped and closed his eyes.

"Are you angry with Desmond?"

"For keeping us apart for over eight centuries? I would very much like to eviscerate him, yes, but I think at least I've found a reason for his attitude those last few days. He hasn't found anyone to love yet. That's why. If he had, he wouldn't have given us that attitude."

The younger Assassin lifted his eyes as a building grew larger in front of them. He realized then that for the past several minutes they'd been driving down not a road but one very long driveway. The mansion—he assumed it was some sort of mansion—was built very much like an old fortress—crenellations and battlements, a tower on one back corner. Did Jameel still practice Leaps of Faith?

As if he'd caught the other male's stunned expression, he said by way of explanation, "My home away from home. Quite a quiet place, really. People think I'm a stunt-man for movies, so I can get away with it." He unbuckled himself and stepped out of the car, leaning back in to quip, "I am one, in fact. Call it my day job."

Lex climbed out of the car and leaned his head up to look up at the tower.

"Do you still use hay?"

"No, an inflatable mattress."

"Dessy'll be so angry with you over replacing his lover."

"Desmond can take a spork to the eye." Jameel shut the door to the separate garage structure he'd parked in with a click of a button on his key, flipping the key shut much like a switchblade, and pocketed the key, heading into the house. "I'll show you inside."

Lex looked at the man as they entered the house. Jameel gestured around the large space they'd entered. "Have a look around." Nodding, Lex did so within the immediate area. He gazed into the room to the left. A large kitchen with many windows. To the right, a low sofa with an even lower table before it and a large plasma screen on one wall. The rest of the wall was decorated with stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. In fact, that's what the place had most of. Neatly placed, artful stuff.

Swords hung in display fashion on the walls he could see from where he stood at the bottom of a staircase, interspersed with various paintings and tapestries and the like. Vases full of scrolls flanked the room he stood in, one beside each entrance to the other rooms. Lex noticed then that instead of straight across, the lintels of the doorways were curved arches, making it feel roomier than the already large house did.

"What all's in here?"

"Plenty of secrets. But such is the life of an Assassin. Everything is a secret." Jameel moved to stand before him, looking into his eyes. Lex returned his gaze.

"I missed you, Jam. For..." He shrugged and looked at the clock on the wall. "For...two or three hours." For all of several heart-wrenching hours, he had missed him, and felt more or less a fool for it, confusion on top of hurt on top of further confusion.

"I've missed you for centuries, Lex."

The pair moved together, Jameel lifting Lex up into his arms as Lex looped his own around his neck, their lips pressing home. The Master Assassin climbed the stairs easily and elbowed open a door, kicking it shut as they fell onto the king sized bed within.

Lex smiled against Jameel's lips, closing his eyes and slipping his tongue into his mouth as he tugged at the Assassin's jeans, arms now around his waist, pulling him close. He deepened the kiss briefly, tasting his mouth before pulling away and slithering out of his shirt and shoes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

"It felt like an eternity." Jameel removed his shirt, slipping off the majority of his clothing with it until he was down to his solid white boxers. Lex blinked at the color before he noticed further scars on Jameel's body, a prominent one on his belly nearly at eye level with him. After giving Lex another kiss, Jameel shed his final piece of clothing and pulled at Lex's pants with his teeth.

The Sparrow slid out of the rest of his clothes in one fluid motion. His lips kissed the new scars, then the old. This was all he was allowed before Jameel pinned him to the bed and began to work over his skin ravenously with his mouth, kissing, nibbling, nipping, and sucking every inch he could lay his lips, tongue, and teeth on. These last left their impressions lightly on his skin as he was bitten from one end of his chest to the other.

Lex finally managed to prop himself up from under Jameel's assault, matching him move for move, gripping at his shoulders. He nipped at his ear, slipping his hands up and down his back and sides, licking and sucking at the lobe.

A short yell escaped him, back arching as Jameel entered him roughly.

"Shit! You could've warned me."

"I'm sorry. I've been deprived for years." A sour look was his answer. He held up an empty wrapper between his fingers before flicking it aside to join their clothes on the floor. "And I said deprived, not stupid." The Sparrow opened his mouth to ask just when he'd put the thing on, but found silence far more pleasurable. Little noises of pleasure fled his mouth as he worked into a rhythm with Jameel. He leaned up, rocking his hips as he pecked and sucked at his chest. "More."

"As you wish." Jameel shifted his pace, working hard and fast, only to drift back and press to him soft and slow and then pick up the pace once again. He reached down and teased along Lex's length with one hand, grabbing his hair with the other and twisting it hard in his grip. He bent his head, gnawing and sucking a line from his chin to his tip.

Lex hissed as Jameel moved lower, jerking his head back by the hair, gasping, "Ease up. Ow!" The tilt grew words. "Shit, are your ears full of cum or something? Ease up, God damn it, Jameel!" He grabbed the Owl's face between his hands and forced him to look up at his face. "I'm not going anywhere." He curled himself down as much as he could, biting his lover's lip as he kissed him. "So stop trying to take my head off." He smirked. "Either one." He bit his lips again, then moved to his neck and shoulders.

"Forgive me. Please," Jameel sighed, rolling to lie under the other man, stroking his legs. "I'm still tense."

"Just relax then." Lex ran his hands over his chest and sides, his belly and hips, massaging down his thighs. "Relax." He let his mouth join in the work his hands were doing, the rest of his body joining in with a slow, hard ride. He moaned his Owl's name as Jameel chewed on his ear. His tongue pressed to the crook of his neck, lapping up the sweat there before he pressed a kiss behind his ear.

His muscles began to quiver and twitch as he was rolled beneath the taller Assassin for a final time, a low whine leaving him as he had his release. He smiled, nipping at Jameel's cheek before pressing a kiss to the spot.

Jameel spent himself and looked down at Lex, as if to confirm he was real. Sighing, he drew back and dropped beside him, cuddling against his side, his head pillowed on his lover's chest.

Lex smiled, pressing his face into the dark hair and draping his arm around his back. He hugged Jameel's head to his chest, stroking his back and face. He could have sworn the Master Assassin purred at the contact. A satisfied smile was printed on his face.

"I love you."

"As I love you." The Red Owl looked up at him from where he'd settled his head, an arm encircling his middle protectively. He kissed his chest over his heart before resting his head once more. "Now that we're not separated by time, we can stay together without worries."

"Yeah." _Except..._ Jameel squeezed Lex tight to his chest as Lex shifted down and pressed his head under his chin.

_The only thing I have to truly worry about is Lex growing old._

_Jameel'll stay the same._

_Lex told me not to think about the then. Think about the now._ He dismissed the troubling thoughts.

_Tomorrow. Worry tomorrow. Tonight's for us._

Lex shut his eyes, mumbling, "Jameel..."

"Hm?" Whatever was to come after his name was lost. Jameel looked at the little sleeper for a time before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Sleep well, Lex." He settling in to sleep as well, his face pressed to his Sparrow's dark hair.

_Is an eternity of waiting not enough payment for another eternity of years? I want this to last for eternity. Just Lex and I._

**I couldn't resist making another chapter, guys. The inspiration was there. I hope you guys enjoy two chapters in one this weekend. Thank you all for the surprising responses I got on the last one. :3 Keep reading, more writing.**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: **Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and its characters, Krono owns Jameel.

**Thanks to Sena-kun, Smeggi, Rolando, and Badr for their reviews and to Tobi for the art.**

New York City  
>New York, 2012<p>

Jameel awoke with his face on the floor and a stiff neck. Oh, well, wasn't the first time he rolled out of bed. This was usually how he woke up when he was sleeping by himself.

_But I wasn't sleeping by myself._ He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at the arm in front of him, following it back to the head resting between his shoulder blades. Had Lex tried to catch him in his sleep? _Well, seems he didn't succeed._

"My love," he cooed, "I want to get up sometime today. Little Sparrow." A soft sigh was his answer. Rolling his eyes, he shifted onto an elbow and pecked the rumpled head of hair atop his back. "Hey, sexy Lexy. Get up."

"Hnn?"

"Get up."

"Why?" Lex slurred, wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand grasping at his chest as he worked his face into his back. "You're the only warm thing on this floor."

"Yes, yes, remind me to install the heated flooring like I planned to before you came and distracted me."

"You need to install guardrails on your bed or something."

"And you need to get off my back. Literally." Lex moved onto his knees, allowing Jameel to turn over and pop his neck. "Agh...Sparrow, you're so heavy..."

"Yeah, I decided to cart around a bunch of coconuts for a swallow friend of mine."

"African or European?" The two looked at each other and chuckled before helping each other up.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That's been happening to me a lot more lately. Not sure why."

"What, having a crick in your neck?" Jameel looked at him flatly. "Oh, the rolling thing."

"Yes, Lex, the rolling thing." He moved to a wardrobe and opened the doors, grabbing a pair of drawers from one of the drawers and slipping into a pair of socks, entering the dark closet beside it. He came out dressed in red jeans and a white shirt and headed into the living room.

The ancient Red Owl scratched an ear as he watched his lover enter the room in the same clothes he'd worn the previous day.

"You know," he said suddenly, "this quiet life really isn't for me. The Templars think me dead for decades."

"I'm surprised they haven't found you yet. Your pants are the same color as the infamous red in the Red Light district." Jameel lifted a brow and gestured to his pants, to which Lex spread his arms. "Red jeans, Jameel? They're friggin' fire-truck red. C'mon. What's your disguise, flamboyantly gay young adult male?"

"What's your disguise, little bird? Broke college student?" He reached out and took Lex gently by the shirt, drawing him onto his lap, their foreheads pressed together.

"You know," the two began in one voice, stopped, and started again, "I was..."

"I was thinking last night—"

"—that I'll stay young while—"

"Yeah... I don't..."

"I know." He sat up and held his face between his hands. "I won't let eight hundred years be in vain, little bird."

"Then maybe we can shake off some of that quiet." The Sparrow smiled. "You got a computer around here? I wanna check something out." Jameel chuckled as if the question was absurd and set him on his feet before standing and motioning for him to follow. He moved to the staircase and opened what looked like an old fashioned cupboard, moving into the dark confines.

There he opened one of the small walls of the cupboard and stepped into a square of light. Lex blinked at the seamless door suddenly opening, apparently without a latch of any sort, but followed him inside and down a flight of steps. The steps led down into an underground, white hall with linoleum flooring and florescent lighting. Lex peered into the first room on the left. It was a training area, a blue matt on the floor and a set on each of the walls. On the closest and opposite walls were wracks of weaponry of all kinds: pikes, swords, axes, bows, arrows.

Jameel, however, had moved past the training area and ran his hand along the wall. Stopping, he let Lex catch up with him before opening another seamless door in the wall. Down the passage was a faint blue light. Taking Lex's hand, he led the younger man toward the light. The source of the light looked to Lex like something out of a Batman cartoon: a giant computer, floor to ceiling.

"I built my own satellite and computer when I figured out how," explained Jameel as he took a seat in the leather chair and began tapping at keys on the keyboard. "This is to detect Templars in the vicinity as well as around the world. Plus, I had to do _something_ with my time." He stood. "There, it's started up for you."

"Jameel, I know you've had almost nine-hundred-years to get this stuff down, but you've just redefined having too much time on your hands. I think Steve Jobs just turned over in his grave."

"I'll miss that man." The Sparrow looked over at him. The Owl shrugged. "Well, I went out and bought an iPod the first chance I got because of you."

"You're weird." Lex laughed softly as he brought up Google on the gigantic screen and searched for ankhs, museums, new exhibits, and New York City. He skimmed through the articles before clicking on a promising one. Closing the window, he stood and kissed Jameel, who'd bent over the chair to read along with him. "C'mon, let's shake off the quietude." The two moved out into the light of the hall beyond. "Bet you haven't done a double Leap in a while."

Jameel finished putting on a watch and fixing the time before he shut the cupboard door and exited the house with Lex.

"Let's do the jump before leaving then."

"Isn't that what I just suggested?"

"Yes. Seems you developed psychic powers in the last eight hundred years."

"Oh, yeah?" He smiled and followed the Red Owl up to the top of the tower. Lex gulped as he looked at the flat surface below his feet, then over the edge at the mattress below. The Sparrow looked up at Jameel, the smell of an oncoming storm reaching his nose, standing his hair on end. "I'm ready. You?"

"Been ready." He grabbed Lex and dove off the tower, planting their lips together. Lex clung to him, the breath leaving his lungs as he kissed him hard. Then they were both on the mattress. He sat up, expecting the sweet smell of hay and only receiving the sharp tang of rain and grass and wet earth. _Wet earth?_ He blinked, looking up at Jameel through the water that decided to plop into his face. It came down faster. He kissed him again, grinning as his hair was plastered into his eyes.

_Well, it's raining. Fantastic. It's not all bad, though. I'm kissing Lex._ He held the smaller man close. _At least I'm not alone in the rain like centuries before._ Jameel pulled away and swiped the hair from his face, then Lex's. "Let's go find that ankh."

They moved to the car. Lex jogged in place until Jameel popped the locks. He dove inside, shutting the door and shivering as he looked at the Owl. A blush dusted his cheeks as he caught himself scanning over his chest, the white shirt soaked to his dark skin. It was then his stomach decided to voice its opinions on the matter of the day's activities.

"Don't suppose breakfast's on the menu?"

"Of course." Jameel switched on the heater to stall Lex's shivering. "I'm getting hungry myself." The drive into the city was relatively short with Jameel locating the nearest Denny's at which to stuff their faces. The order was placed and the Assassins sat in silence, waiting on the food as they got their drinks.

"Are you gonna have some coffee with your sugar?" Jameel asked, watching as Lex put four packets in, thought a moment, and added a fifth. The younger man grinned.

"In a minute." He added in the coffee and a few creams. Once the food was delivered, they ate in silence until, "So, after we get there and scope out the place, how the hell are we gonna get the thing out?" Lex forked another chunk of egg into his mouth and folded the piece of toast he'd gotten himself in half, biting into it. "Needs _za'atar_."

Jameel scraped the last of his food into his mouth before answering, "Let's not talk about it here. Eavesdroppers, remember?" He waved for the check and paid it with cash, heading out to the car with Lex.

"No eavesdroppers in the car, unless they bugged it while we were eating." Jameel looked over at him as he unlocked the car and opened his door for him.

"Nobody touches the car."

They started off down toward the museum. "We'll do it Mission Impossible style, except with class." Lex looked over at him slowly. Jameel gave him a nod as they stopped for some pedestrians crossing the street. "Indeed, Lex, it's the only thing I can come up with. I don't have a plan. I'm good at killing people with theft as a hobby, not stealing priceless relics. Any ideas yourself?"

"Can we throw in a little National Treasure with the classy MI?"

"Was that a Nicholas Cage movie?"

"Yup, two of 'em."

"Ah." _No wonder I don't remember it._

X x X

The museum's insides were a press of bodies, jostling elbows and legs. Using the crowd, the Sparrow slipped under the red velvet ropes cordoning the exhibit and stared at the ankh inside the glass case. It didn't look anything special. Just an old stone Egyptian cross with some hieroglyphics carved into it.

Jameel stood back from the throng, keeping a sharp eye on the case, the Journeyman, and the guards milling about, trying to press people into a semblance of order. The Red Owl fixed his gaze on the ankh. _What did I ever do to you? Oh, wait, I touched you. Stupid, stupid, stupid... That has to be the dumbest thing I've ever done. And Lex wants to take you from this place._ He sighed. _I'll have to work behind the scenes for this one._

Lex looked up from the ankh as a whistle reached him through the crowd, slipping back under the ropes. Two men were coming toward him. One walked with hands on his hips, a bulge protruding over his belt, which held keys and a nightstick, jowls quivering. The other was lean, hands resting at his sides in loose fists. He held up his hands.

"Don't worry, officers. I didn't breathe on the case," he said. The one who looked like he did all the running narrowed his eyes at him; his colleague said something or other loudly that was lost in the hubbub around them. Lex moved to Jameel's side. The taller man grasped his hand tightly as they walked out. _I don't want to look at that thing a minute longer. That thing... No. Just no. Do not want._ "You okay?" The question brought him out of his reverie.

"Yeah...I'm fine." Jameel shook his head, face ashen. "I don't want to look at that thing again." They entered the car once more. "So, do you have a plan?"

"MI with National Treasure."

"Sounds like a good plan. A great plan. I like that plan."

"That's sarcasm, isn't it?"

"Dripping in every word. Know that I'm not getting anywhere near that thing, though. Who knows what it could do to me?" Jameel drove them back home to further elaborate their scheme on how to steal the ankh.

X x X

Jameel's fingers clacked away on the keyboard as Lex finished suiting up. _Kevlar vest? Check. Black clothing? Check. Bluetooth headset? Check. _

"So, what're you going to do while I'm Tom Cruising it up in there?"

"What I'm going to do is make sure you go undetected ahead of time by using that nifty little satellite I told you about." Jameel tapped a few more keys.

"...Did you just say 'nifty'?" Lex asked, lifting a brow. Jameel turned to him, sighing.

"Basically, I'm going to make sure you're not tailed or waited on by some trap. If the Templars get wind of this thing, they'll be all over it." Hitting a final key, he stood and exited the house with Lex. "I'll alert you if there are any Templars anyway, with or without knowledge of the ankh."

"Yeah." Lex gripped at the armrests as they drove down the streets once more. He nodded and swallowed, drumming his foot on the floor. The Sparrow ran a hand through his hair, chuckling, "God, I'm on edge."

"This isn't your first time infiltrating a heavily guarded area." Jameel settled a black canvas bag on his lap, then wrapped an arm around him, drawing him close briefly. "You'll be fine, little bird. This is only slightly harder than getting into Damas."

"Yeah, you're right." He grinned. "Besides, what's the fat guy gonna do? Roll on me?" Jameel smirked at the jab, then nodded, returning Lex's kiss when he gave him one as he exited the car. Lex mounted the steps to the museum halfway before turning and looking back over his shoulder. Jameel made a shooing motion before driving off a ways to monitor the situation from the safety of his iPad. His eyes were glued to the little dot that was the Sparrow and the other little dots patrolling the corridors.

Picking the lock to the side entrance, he made his way inside. The Sparrow pressed himself back into a side hall as a door opened in front of him. He peered around the corner. A guard headed down the hall toward the main rooms. The Journeyman lowered the bag and looked into it, scanning over the items quickly.

"Front side pocket," said a voice in his ear that almost made him yelp with surprise. Taking what he needed from the pocket, he slung the bag over his shoulders, and padded over behind the guard. Arms looped, a hand closed over mouth and nose. The guard struggled briefly before sinking to the floor.

Treading lightly over the floor, Lex glanced one way and the other before scurrying to the case that held the ankh. Slipping a hand into the bag, he brought out a small glass cutter and made a rough ankh-shaped cut, lifting the old piece of stole out inch by inch into his hands.

The Sparrow turned slowly, not even daring to breathe as he put the instrument and the artifact into the bag and shut it.

"Hey!" _Shit!_ The little thief bolted, heels beating a heavy tattoo as he slammed open the door he'd come through and raced out into the street. Alarms sounded. He raced down the sidewalk, tripped on the edge of a slightly higher piece of paving, righted himself and kept running. Lex ducked into an alley and quickly began to strip down, shedding his clothing until he was in a hoodie and black jeans and stuffing it all in the bag.

That done, he climbed the nearest fire escape, ran the roof, and dropped down onto the other fire escape, gathering his strength to leap to the ledge on the other side of the alleyway before scurrying up and moving to the next side. Dropping down here was harder and came at the expense of his clothing: he landed in a Dumpster.

"Oww." Lex climbed out of the smelly bin and looked over at car idling there. Jameel reached over and opened the door.

"Hurry up and get in." Lex obeyed. Jameel backed onto the street and drove toward home. "Don't worry about the clothes. They've got these wonderful inventions called air fresheners these days."

Once they'd returned home, Jameel descended to the computer room and set the satellite back to its default objective, moving back out into the living room to find Lex seated on the sofa and holding the ankh between his hands tightly. "Is it doing anything odd, Lex?"

"Nah, not yet." Lex turned the cross over and over, running his fingers along the carvings on its face. "Don't think it has since I—Oh my God, it's glowing." The Sparrow shivered as the glow brightened, standing the hairs on his arm on end.

Jameel ran around the corner and ducked for cover as the glow in the room brightened. Despite his fear, or because of it, he peered around the corner to watch. The glow was almost blinding white now, the faint smell of pork reaching his nose as the skin on Lex's hands was no doubt singed. He knew what was happening. It was doing it again.

Then it was gone. Completely gone, glow and all. Then...

The two men looked up at the sound of tinkling. The only thought Lex had at the sight that awaited him above his head was, _Fuck..._ Jameel winced as crystalline white sand was dumped squarely on top of Lex from where it hung above him on the ceiling.

Lex found himself digging upward from the bottom of a sandbox. He gasped as his head came free, shaking the sand from his hair and just about everywhere else. Grit was in his mouth. He pulled off his shoes and dumped sand out of them, looking at Jameel. "I can take a shower now, right?"

Jameel nodded and pointed in the direction of the shower.

"And while you're showering off," he said to himself, "I'll..." He gestured toward the mound of sand on the floor. "Yes, I'm going to sweep this out of my house."

X x X

Lex looked the Red Owl up and down quickly as he stepped out of the bathroom and moved down the stairs to the living room. The man was sprawled on the now-clean couch, a large tie-dye pillow beneath his head. The clothes he'd worn were drip-drying in the shower he'd washed them in. A tower was wrapped around his waist, another around his shoulders. Jameel smirked at the sight of Lex standing there in the towels, arms folded across his little chest.

"What?"

"Some pants would be nice." Lex shrugged and sprawled on the couch next to him. "Ah, well." He shut his eyes and relaxed. Jameel combed his fingers through Lex's damp hair, thoughts thinking thoughts of their little escapade.

Their trail couldn't be traced. Besides, the bag was in the car and the car was in the garage. They couldn't possibly be tracked, could they? _I'm sure the security cameras aren't capable of zooming in to get a look at Lex's face with any kind of clarity. But what about enhancement technology?_ He sighed and passed the hand that had been petting the other man over his eyes. _I'll just have to call in a favor with my friends in the precinct._ He sighed again, lamenting his own folly. _I should've invested in that signal jammer._

**Thank you all who've gotten this far in the story. You're a wonderful, dedicated lot who must have the patience of saints. We're almost home now. :3**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: ** Assassin's Creed and its characters are the property of Ubisoft. Jameel belongs to Kronoton.

**Thanks to Smeggi, Badr, and Tobi for the reviews of the last chapter. Two in one day, a special bonus for you guys. :3**

New York City,  
>New York, 2012<p>

"Hello, Lex," Jameel said as he opened his eyes and focused on the boy seated beside him, fingers stroking his head, dressed in a pair of baggy, black sweats and a loose white T-shirt. "Why am I on the floor again?"

"Hello, Jameel. You rolled again." Lex smiled. "I took the liberty of raiding your closet, too."

"That I can see." Jameel stood and popped his back, sighing, only to flop back down on the couch again. "Let's see what our endeavors last night had to say." Lex moved onto the seat next to him and leaned his head into his side as the recorded news came on. He picked some wet sand the shower had failed to rid him out from under his fingernails as he listened.

"What did the thief look like?" asked whichever reporter it was talking.

"I don't know," said the voice of the guard that had yelled to the Journeyman when he'd taken the ankh. "He was small, I know that. Medium, kind of average."

"What about skin color?"

"White, I think. Maybe Middle Eastern. Or Hispanic. Yeah, Middle Eastern or Hispanic, but with more of a white nose." The Sparrow felt his nose, looking at Jameel's. He went cross-eyed in an attempt to view his own nose, then shook his head. "He had on a uniform, too, like a Navy Seal. Took my partner down, too."

"Took him down?"

"Yeah, knocked him out," the man clarified. "Poor guy doesn't remember a thing." He paused, eyes wide. "I know what that guy has to be. It's the only thing that makes sense with the way he got in and out." He leaned in. The reporter did likewise, brows raised. The camera zoomed in on the guard's face so that every blood-filled vessel stood out on his eyes and every pore was seen in stunning clarity. "He's a ninja."

The Journeyman was giggling like a madman.

"What...the fuck..."

His laughter was dwarfed by Jameel, who was doubled up where he sat, clutching at his sides. _A ninja? Seriously? Oh, God, this is too rich!_ For the third time, he fell off something. Eventually, he dragged himself back onto the couch and patted Lex's back.

"Well done, Lex!" he rasped, chuckling. "I've trained you so well."

Lex grinned and nodded, gasping, "The cops'll—the cops'll be looking for a white-nosed Middle Eastern Latino guy dressed in black silk pajamas."

Jameel rubbed a watering eye. "Oh, how funny. Society these days..." _So funny..._ He chuckled again and shut off the TV, dropping back against the couch. Reaching over, he poked Lex's belly. "Are you going to continue with the broke college student disguise?"

"Why?"

"Well," Jameel began, but was interrupted by a ringtone. Frowning, he held up a finger and pulled out a touch screen cell phone. Putting in a password, he checked the message. "Hmph." Turning the phone back off after deleting the message, he looked at Lex once again. "Are you afraid of planes?"

"No. Why?"

"Are you afraid of anything involving flying in general?" Jameel looked over at him, one hand hooked into his pocket.

"What, like insane Somali terrorists carrying bombs in their drawers or something? Man, if they see you getting onto the plane they'd shit bricks and the bomb and walk on home." Lex stood and folded his arms. "Why all the questions about flying?"

"Oh, we're going to bother Desmond after I get you some new clothes."

"Why do we have to fly to Desmond?" Lex asked, following after Jameel as the man once more took up his car keys.

"Oh, he's in Italy."

"Italy. Okay, that's fine. I can speak passable Italian." The tall man looked down at him as he started up the car, his skeptic-o-meter going off.

"Say something."

"In Italian?"

"No, in Arabic. Yes, Italian."

"Gelato. Spaghetti. Linguini. Pasta. _Futtiti. Stronzo._" Lex opened his mouth to continue when Jameel said, "Wait, wait, wait. Where the hell did you learn those last two?"

"We had an Italian exchange student in my class once." He put on an Italian accent. "He thought the girl's breasts were very fine and told them so to their faces."

"That's one of the things this age is missing. Straightforwardness." Jameel parked the car and walked into the store with him. Lex sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around at the clothes, picking out a few shirts and T-shirts. Jameel held out a pair of jeans to him. Lex stared at the thin-legged pants. "Try them on."

Lex sighed and went to the changing room, coming back out walking like a penguin. Jameel looked him up and down as Lex stood wheezing.

"Hey, I hope you know I can't breathe in these things." No answer. "Hello!"

"Hmm?" Jameel looked up at his face. "Sorry, I was busy staring at your balls through those skinny jeans. What were you saying?"

Lex shook his head and returned to the changing room.

X x X

Jameel settled onto the seat of the plane, sighing in relief after the arduous trial of getting into the plane. Security had been on them like a plague of lice until they'd passed through all the check points and gotten on board.

Lex reached over and touched his hand, twining their fingers together as the plane began to taxi. Jameel smiled over at him, bracing himself as the ground was left behind.

"Get some sleep, little bird. It's going to be a long flight."

X x X

The man pushed up his glasses as his fingers clacked on the keyboard of the laptop. He typed up emails as quickly as they came, plans being formed and reformed to include whatever variables would arise. He paused as a message sprang up on the screen:

Shadow Thief says  
>We're coming to you.<p>

The man pursed his lips and responded:

Guy Fawkes says  
>Give me the time and the place. I'll be there.<p>

Shadow Thief says  
>Delete the message once it's been received and read. Safety and peace be upon you.<p>

Guy Fawkes says  
>Safety and peace upon you as well.<p>

**Futtiti = Fuck you**

**Stronzo = Asshole**

**And so ends the first installment of the Creed series. I'm glad to all of you who enjoyed the story so much that it got to this point. The next installment, Renaissance Creed, will be coming shortly. As always, you lot keep reading, I'll keep writing.**


End file.
